Star Wars Eons: Inquisition
by JSN7
Summary: After the Jedi Purge, Xur Eon goes undercover as an inquisitor bent on bringing down the sinister Inquisitorious from the inside. Trilla Suduri, the Second Sister, is drawn to this impostor, ignorant to his true identity, a man she once knew. Through him she may experience sated vengeance...or a path to redemption. M for frequent foul language and crude humor. Fallen Order AU
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**Coruscant, 26 BBY**

**Jedi Temple**

Studying was fiercely boring.

Xur felt his eyes shuddering every few seconds as he slouched more and more into his chair in the Great Library. Today he had been tasked with researching the three things of the _whatever_ for Master bantha poop-head or _whatever_ their name was for their big, mysterious project that the young Jedi could care less about. He already knew _why_ he was here; getting busted for trying to sneak into the holocron vault.

Again.

He found it cruel that they would place him directly within eyesight of the vault he couldn't access (and yes, he was literally at the desk _right_ next to it), but expected as much from his Master, Mace Windu. The Jedi Council member sure had a way with poetic justice. Xur could imagine him saying already, "You'll keep this up until you learn discipline, Eon. I've got all the time in the galaxy."

Yeah, yeah _sure_ he did. It was all a trick, Xur knew. The Jedi couldn't keep him locked in here forever. His talents were just too great. They _needed_ him, and Xur was plenty sure of that idea, and _oh_ the comfort it gave him.

"_Xur_," someone whispered in the desk next to him, making him jump awake.

That someone was Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi only a few years older than him, but the puberty strike spoke otherwise. He stood almost a full eight inches taller than him, and his deeper voice only made the young zabrak more jealous the more he heard it.

Xur rubbed his eyes. "What do you want, man?"

"Find anything?" Anakin asked, trying to peer at his screen.

He almost laughed. "Nope. All I've got is this guy went blah blah and then blah blah."

Anakin had been roped into "punishment" as well, but not for the same act, in fact Anakin hadn't disclosed _why_ he was there in the first place. The Jedi usually bragged about the daring and certainly unpermitted heist that had landed him there.

Anakin began. "Well, I've got-,"

"_Shhhh!_" the Librarian, Master Nu, shushed from the other side of the arrangement of desks. "Keep it down, Padawans."

"Sorry Master," Anakin and Xur both said in unison, more to just get her attention away from them.

The two of them kept quiet until she wandered away, helping younglings with whatever assignments they had. It was odd for the two of them, since they had been padawans since they were inducted at their young age, which meant some of the younglings were actually older than them. Xur was only 12, and the average Padawan age was 16 years old, but his case was certainly special enough to warrant an exception. Master Windu had vouched for him since he was found on the Temple steps.

Anakin noticed Xur's attention never returned to his screen, and he traced his gaze to a teenaged human girl sitting across from them and a few desks down the row. All he could make out was her forehead and short, shoulder-length black hair from his angle.

"Who are you looking at?" Anakin asked, keeping his voice as low as possible, even using a bit of the Force to keep the sound only in Xur's direction.

The zabrak flushed red, even detectable with his already crimson skin. "N-no one," he stammered, his eyes focusing back on his screen.

Anakin smirked and discreetly peered over and found recognition once he could see her face. "Oh, I know who that is."

"You do?" Xur asked, trying as well to keep his voice down despite his excitement. "I-I mean…I-,"

Anakin tried not to laugh.

"It's not funny!" Xur protested, and then received a shushing gesture from Anakin.

"Are you trying to get us in trouble again?"

Xur realized his mistake, and then tried to hide behind his screen as he could feel all the others looking at him. "_Sorry_."

After another waiting moment for things to quiet down, Anakin leaned in. "Her name is Trilla. I can introduce her to you, if you want."

Xur shook his head feverishly. "_Pfft_ what? No thanks…I'm alright, man."

"Come _on_," he pressed. "No. After this, you're meeting her."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"_Padawans!_" Master Nu called again.

"Sorry, Master," they both mumbled in unison.

* * *

After the grueling twelve hours that Anakin and Xur spent in the Library, the sun had already dipped below the horizon on Coruscant, leaving the two of them to wander the halls to their quarters. Much to Xur's pleasure, Trilla was long gone before Anakin had a chance to force him to speak with her, so he found it much easier to breathe after the stress had washed over.

Neither of them was feeling drowsy, and since everyone in the Temple had either retired for the day or had gone off on assignment, they both ended up in Anakin's quarters…with a deck of sabacc cards.

Anakin mulled over his three cards, looking across to Xur who was stuck deciding whether or not to draw his third. Since neither of them had any credits to speak of, they commonly used bits and pieces of scrap to simulate some form of betting, even if none of it was worth anything.

The zabrak continued to look, but eventually decided to draw from the deck. In that moment, Anakin tried to peer into his mind, but was met with a stronger resistance than any other young Jedi he had faced. Xur's eyes panned up.

"Nice try, Skywalker," he smirked. "Might work on those other younglings, but not me."

Anakin shrugged. "Wouldn't need to anyway."

Xur rolled his eyes. "It's your bet, man."

Anakin looked at his cards again. He had the required total of 23, all suited as well, and Xur hadn't looked confident through the round. With a smirk, he pushed all of his scrap to the middle. "All in."

Xur stared for a moment, his eyes moving to his cards again, and then back to his pile. "I'll call."

Anakin scoffed and showed his cards. "Pure Staves Sabacc."

"Ouch," Xur winced, and Anakin began early celebrations, before Xur turned his cards and slapped them on the floor. "Idiot's Array."

Anakin was stunned. "Blast! You cheated!"

The zabrak grumbled. "Said by every _loser_ ever. Want to start a new game?"

The opposing Padawan was about to argue more, until his door chime sounded, taking both of their sets of eyes off the game.

Xur sighed. "Don't tell me they reinstated curfew."

"Nope," Anakin shook his head. "Come in guys!"

When the door opened, a few teenaged younglings filed into his room. They were all human, one male and two females. The first girl who came in was named Effa, a dirty blonde about Anakin's age, and truthfully one of the only friends Xur had ever seen him with. Behind her was Kaidan, a dark-skinned human who was one of _his_ only friends.

"Thanks for coming Effa, Kaidan," Anakin greeted. "Xur and I were just playing sabacc. Want to join us?"

Kaidan scoffed. "Join you? We've been reading ancient scrolls all day, so I'm dying to have a little _fun _for a change."

"Of course!" Effa agreed, and then stepped aside. "We're all _really_ bored, I brought my friend Trilla, if that's alright."

Xur's body might as well have melted into a puddle of matter right then and there.

"Yeah, sure," Anakin shrugged. "I don't see why not."

Trilla stepped forward, looking a little shy, but held out her hand. "Sorry, I hope I'm not a bother."

Anakin shook it. "No, the more the merrier," he said, and then Xur felt a Force nudge from him, which really only annoyed the zabrak. He knew Anakin had set all this up and had somehow convinced Effa to go along with it, and now he was trapped unprepared and in an awkward situation. "This is my friend Xur, by the way," he presented, but Xur never looked up. "He's _really_ good at sabacc."

Xur almost cringed, but looked up anyway, doing his best to smile. "I'm _alright_," he said, bashfully and with his hand on the back of his neck.

"_Alright?_" Kaidan exclaimed, taking a seat around the pile of scrap pieces. "You're amazing! I've never beaten you."

Xur didn't know what to say. He had never liked flattery in the first place, and he knew even less about what to do with it.

Everyone took a seat around the pile, and as predictability demanded, Trilla took hers next to him. As Anakin began to shuffle and deal everyone's first card, Xur fought off his fight or flight instinct and took a deep breath, knowing that he'd be smart to take the chance that Anakin had forced upon him, despite the manner it had been.

"Hi," he greeted. "I'm Xur…but uh…you already knew that."

Trilla smiled anyway. "Nice to meet you," she replied, and then took her first card. "I'm not very good, honestly."

Xur shrugged. "It's all just chance with a little bit of awareness," he explained. "I could show you, if you want."

"Sure," she agreed.

The first few rounds progressed slowly, since Xur spent a lot of his time explaining the rules and showing his cards to Trilla, much to the displeasure of Kaidan, who was anxious to get going. He could feel Anakin's amusement through the force, which he knew he was purposely projecting, but he didn't let that throw him off. The zabrak was beginning to finally get a grip on himself.

"Pure Sabacc," Xur said, dropping his total of -23 on the floor, which was followed by collective groans as he pulled in the pot. "Sorry guys."

"This nerf-herder has got to be cheating," Kaidan complained. "How did a little kid like you get so good?" he laced his tone with condescension on purpose.

Xur shrugged. "I read a few logs in the Archives, oh and I practice at the Dark Star Lounge, just a few blocks from the Temple."

"What?" Trilla asked. "How do you manage to even get in the door?"

"I know the guy who owns the place. He says he knew my dad," Xur explained as Anakin dealt the first card to everyone. "Old togruta guy. His name is Paavo."

Trilla looked intrigued. "Who's your father?"

Xur wasn't expecting _anyone_ to bring up his family, especially since he never brought them up, and he silently wished he had caught himself. If someone aside from her had asked, he wouldn't have even answered.

The zabrak looked away. "He used to be a Jedi Knight, Osiris Eon…but he killed my mother when I was little. He disappeared after that."

His story sucked a lot of the life out of the atmosphere, and the traumatic experience he had when he was only two years of age came back to him in that moment.

"Do you know what happened to him?" Effa asked.

Xur shoved it away, as he always did. "I prefer to just say he's dead. Makes it easier to forget."

Anakin could feel his distress, and chimed in. "Hey guys, we've got to end this kid's reign of terror on this game."

Eventually, Xur's reverie wore off, and he returned in full spirit after dropping a few rounds. Still, his pile was the largest just ahead of Kaidan's, who had won a major bet against Anakin that had nearly cleaned him out.

Xur had a decent hand so far, his first two were a 13 and a 1, so he felt in position to grab the 23, but his chances weren't very high.

"16," Anakin called out his total, which happened on the second round of drawing.

"10," said Effa.

Kaidan groaned. "32."

"Yikes," Xur mocked. "14."

Everyone looked to Trilla, who took her time to look through her cards. "Um…I think I have…minus 6?"

"Let me see," Xur peaked over, but she hid them from his vision.

"No, no, I'm fine," she insisted. "minus 6."

When the drawing round came to his turn, he pulled from the pile and found an 8, putting him just at 22, right after Kaidan expectedly bombed out over 23.

Anakin had first bet. "10 pieces."

Effa shook her head. "No thanks," and placed her cards in the side pile.

Xur already knew Anakin couldn't beat him. He hadn't bombed out, and all the cards that would beat his 22 had already been played, and Trilla had -6, which had slim to absolutely no chance at reaching 22.

"Alright," Xur nodded. "I guess I'll raise you…however much this is," he said, splitting off half his pile and into the pot.

Kaidan waved his hand through the air in dismissal. "You're full of more hot gas than a hutt after dinner."

Xur rubbed his chin, feeling the pride of victory swell. "Let's see, are you still in the game? _Oh_ right, you bombed out."

"I'll call," Trilla said.

Everyone looked at her in confusion.

"_Huh?_" Kaidan asked.

"The bet," Trilla explained. "I'm calling. Everything I have. I think that matches what you put in," she said, looking at Xur, and pushing her entire pile into the middle.

Xur almost laughed, but kept it to himself, turning to Anakin. "_Uh_, your bet, man."

"_Yeah_, I'm out of here thank you," Anakin discarded his cards.

Trilla kept her cards hidden, looking to Xur. "What do you have?"

Xur cocked his head in disbelief, and then presented his cards. "I've got 22," he said, which was followed by more groans from the others.

She looked down, her head drooping with a heavy sigh. "At first, it wasn't adding up, but I figured I'd stay in," she explained. "But then I saw this card I'd never seen before. I believe it's called 'The Star'?"

Xur gulped.

Trilla dropped her cards with a sudden smile. "Pure Sabacc. Minus 23."

The room exploded with laughter as the others finally witnessed Xur being beaten at his own game, downplaying the value of everything until the very end.

Through the laughter, he scoffed. "Well played."

She smiled. "I had a good teacher."

* * *

_A few years passed, and suddenly the Republic was beginning to split itself apart. Many systems began to flock to the Confederacy of Independent Systems as the Sith Lord Count Dooku riled up dissent within each world. That's when the Clone Wars broke out._

_Trilla and I had become close, but since we were Jedi, we were forbidden to form romantic attachments…which strained the both of us. It was almost like a curse. We loved each other, but it felt like it didn't matter. There were hundreds of reasons why we couldn't be together, and all of them felt like knives in my heart. It was…too much…for either of us to bear._

_When the day came that my Master and I would head to Geonosis…head to war…she and I met in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. She was a Padawan by now, just beginning her apprenticeship, while I had been groomed for combat. I was a weapon, and I knew it. The Jedi were going to utilize me in every aspect if they could, and I knew that meant I wouldn't be on Coruscant nearly enough._

_I told her that I was-,_

* * *

"…heading to Geonosis," Xur explained. "Master Windu is assembling all able Jedi to rescue Obi-Wan Kenobi from the Separatists…and…he's confident enough to bring me along."

They both sat together between two of the majestic fountains in the grand hall, the quiet water enough to drown out their voices as they talked. Xur's eyes remained fixed to the floor, holding back the terrible idea he was about to suggest, and he didn't dare look her way. He couldn't bear to see her eyes when he revealed the truth.

Trilla placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling his anxiety almost crackle in the Force. "You've trained for this your entire life. You'll be ready," she assured, and then leaned in to whisper. "I know you will."

"I know, I know," Xur eased, but still didn't look her way. "But Trilla, I…I don't know if we should-," he couldn't finish, no matter how hard he tried to force himself to push her away, he couldn't find the strength. Most of him didn't _want_ to. He couldn't count how many times he had imagine scooping her up in his arms to telling her how much he cared about her, and that it was time to say to hell with the Order and live the rest of their lives together. The picture he saw…it was the most beautiful thing he could imagine…and yet he knew it was a twisted fantasy that could never become reality.

But it wasn't the Code, it wasn't the fact that they were Jedi. He just felt as if…

As if it wasn't his destiny.

He could feel it in the Force…a _pull_. Something out there in the galaxy was calling him to be something _greater_ than just another Jedi. Anakin was the Chosen One, but Xur felt like he had his own part to play in the wars to come…and perhaps beyond that.

"Xur," Trilla called. "What's bothering you? I can feel great conflict within you…as if you're…at war with _yourself_."

The truth had to be said.

He turned and took both her hands into his own. "Trilla…I want you to know that no matter whatever may happen to either of us, I will always care about you. You mean the world to me, and I'm sincerely glad I met you…but-,"

"We can't be together," she finished for him, the look on her face understanding, which was not what he expected. In fact, he could sense that she perhaps knew what he was going to say before they had even sat together. "I know, and I care about you too, but I understand that we're both traveling in opposing directions. You have your war, and I have my training."

"Y-yeah," Xur agreed. "What I was going to say…kind of word for word. How did you know?"

She shrugged. "You're not as subtle as you think."

Xur scoffed and pulled his hands away. "_Alright_ that's enough out of you. Obviously, you're too damn smart for your own good," he joked.

"Learned from the best," she smiled.

He laughed. "That's cute. Thanks."

When they both had run out of banter, and frankly words to say entirely, they embraced, feeling the love they had for each other intertwining in the Force, and let it sink in as best they could.

"Don't die," she almost begged. "Please."

"No one's killing me," he promised. "Anakin and I…we're the best there are," they pulled away and Xur squeezed her shoulder. "You know that."

"I know," she nodded. "Still, I worry."

"Don't worry about me," he said, rising to his feet. "I'll end this thing swiftly…and when it's all over, we'll compare notes. Who knows? Maybe you'll have caught up to me by then."

Trilla rolled her eyes. "Get out of my sight, you brute."

With that, Xur walked away…walked to war.

* * *

**Thanks for checking this out! Let me just say that I absolutely fell in love with Jedi: Fallen Order, and all its characters, so I felt it necessary to write up my own story featuring far and away my favorite: Trilla Suduri. This OC I've introduced was the main character of a series I have already written, but I've decided to make this story a spin-off, so no need to catch up! This story has Clone Wars flashbacks, but mainly focuses on the Imperial Inquisition, and Xur Eon's daring mission to infiltrate the Inquisitorious with LOTS of drama along the way.**

**As stated in the description, this story is rated M for a reason: mostly for FREQUENT crude language, harsh/dark comedy, violence and adult themes. This story is a gritty take on Star Wars, so just be prepared for the things I have mentioned.**

**I hope you've read enough to be on board! Please feel free to give me feedback, even if you don't like something. If you think something is wrong, or doesn't make sense, don't hesitate to let me know, so I can analyze and fix the issue.**

**With that out of the way, let's begin!**


	2. Dying Light

**CHAPTER 1**

Dying Light

"Man is not what he thinks he is. He is what he hides."

**Iridonia, 15 BBY**

**Mining District**

The air was thick, filled with the black soot that rained down from the searing exhaust vents that towered above. Breathing was never easy on Iridonia, but that made it easy for one to blend in, especially a zabrak…trying to escape the galaxy itself. Its inhospitality warded off Imperial patrols, as some troopers may make half-effort sweeps of the area just to get out as quickly as possible.

Xur was the only occupant of the narrow street that cut between two factories manufacturing minerals and processing whatever the mines could scrounge up. His helmet would tell the untrained eye that he was a bounty hunter, but his mining uniform would easily disprove that assumption. It didn't matter to him. He didn't want to _be_ anything.

There was no one to judge him here anyway.

He felt a buzz on his belt, and a flat device's interface glowed through the hazy night. Without any wasted time, he unclipped it and let his eyes follow the message it had left.

_THIRD BROTHER_

_ SURVAILLENCE JAMMED_

_ GOOD LUCK_

The zabrak smirked behind his helmet. Another poor bastard was on his way, fully intending on being the one to finally track down and slay the elusive Xur Eon, who was certainly at the top of every Inquisitor's list by now, just as he had been since he barely escaped alive from his duel at the Jedi Temple.

It was such an idiotic idea…to run in without a real plan…even with his immunity to the corruptive energies of the Dark Side of the Force. While the Dark Side offered immense power when he needed it, there was always a price to pay. That time it had nearly blinded him to the fact of how overmatched he was, and that any hope of killing _him_ would have to come in time…when he could truly master both sides of the Force.

That all depended on if he could live that long to see it through.

Danger sense electrified his spine, and Xur had his hilt in his hand and raised in time for it to ignite and stop the overhead bisecting ambush in its tracks. Relying on the Force with no vision of his attacker, Xur dropped his support of the crimson blade and rolled, kicking right where it had told him to, knocking his assailant off balance. Muscle memory followed and he stood forward with both hands raised, sending them tumbling into a scrap pile from a violent force push.

Xur rolled out his shoulders. "Another one? Good. I could use the practice."

The Inquisitor flipped back onto his feet, his black and red armor covering his average-sized body, and a sinister mask keeping his face hidden. He was probably human, Xur surmised, which meant there were no special tricks to this duel.

His circular hilt ignited both blades, and there was a laugh that sounded through his mask. "Xur Eon, at last. You're even more filthy than they described," he chuckled.

Xur shook his head and looked away with disinterest. "Yeah…who are you? Five hundred twenty fifth brother or something like that? I'm starting to lose count."

The Inquisitor engaged, the blades spinning with the mechanism between each of his stabs and swings. Xur adopted a defensive pose, his titian blade stopping each killing blow, as well as mixing in sidesteps and dodges. His first duel with the spinning blade had him on the run, since its mechanized power was almost a match to General Grievous' own spinning hands and required an unorthodox approach to truly counter.

Xur had seen enough of these things to do _more_ than counter them.

The Inquisitor wailed at him with the ends of each blade, forcing the zabrak to backpedal and parry each predictable strike. Once he found the careless mistake he was looking for, Xur grabbed ahold of the hilt and pulled him forward, and then used his momentum to slam the hard metal into his mask. The cranial impact had the Inquisitor stagger, and then it was Xur's turn to go on the offensive. Switching to Mace Windu's signature Vaapad style, he relentlessly swung with two hands on his hilt, the Force-enhanced impacts making his opponent stagger with each parry, until he eventually broke through his defense entirely and managed to sever one blade emitter from the hilt.

But the Inquisitor wasn't fazed as usual. He used Xur's false sense of victory against him and slashed back, grazing his hidden shoulder guard before it cut through his neck and ended his life. Annoyed more than anything, the zabrak retaliated in full, using raw strength to beat him down in frustration. Eventually, he cut through the second emitter and pooled his building aggression, before releasing it through force lightning.

It was only a short burst, but the job had been done, as the Inquisitor laid on the ash filled ground with heavy breathing. Xur's hands seared with pain from the attack, which seemed to be the regular toll of releasing such power without a full understanding of the Dark Side, and it was progressively getting worse the more times he had to use it.

Despite being on the edge of death, the Inquisitor managed to chuckle. "You…would make a…_fine_ inquisitor."

Xur's pain only fed his anger, and he could feel raw strength being drawn from it. "No thanks. One day your master will get it. The more Inquisitors he sends after me, the less he'll have in time. My mark is a death sentence for you all," Xur explained, looking down upon him with his blade still ignited. This was the point in which the Inquisitor would beg for mercy, as all cowards of the Dark Side did, but he sensed no fear in the life he was about to end. "But I've got the feeling you knew that already."

The Inquisitor chuckled through gasps. "You speak as if you have a choice. Inquisition…is inevitable…for _all_ of us. There is no escape!"

"Yeah, well, I'm sure I'll manage," Xur insisted, and then drove his saber into his chest, ending his life and expelling the rest of his rage. In balance, Xur took a deep breath and knelt, rummaging through the Inquisitor's devices for anything of use. He found a pocket-sized holomap, medical injections and tracking equipment.

Xur winced as his impact shoulder began to light up in pain as his adrenaline wore off, and its intensity suggested it was something that would take at least a week to heal…which would probably be just in time for his next customer to find him.

This was the seventh inquisitor he had faced, third this year, second this month, and the increased frequency _was_ beginning to make him feel uneasy. He prided himself at being at least average at hiding, but they were finding him far too easily now.

Maybe all these attacks were just to slow him down…but if so, for what?

Purely out of curiosity, Xur flipped up the Inquisitor's mask, and then couldn't help but gasp at the sight.

It was Kaidan.

While the two of them hadn't been particularly close after the war began, seeing his lifeless face hit Xur much harder than expected. To know that _he _had ended his life, a man who had escaped the Jedi Purge, only to become an Inquisitor in the end…and to be killed by an old friend.

The zabrak grit his teeth behind his lips. This was all _him_. There was no coincidence that Kaidan had been sent after him, knowing full and well that he didn't stand a chance against Xur. _He_ wanted Xur to lose control and kill him, so even in victory, he had been defeated.

Xur turned away, his fist clenched, and nowhere to expel his building hatred for one man, the man who destroyed everything he ever cared about.

Anakin Skywalker.

* * *

It was a long walk to his destination, spending most of that time trying to make himself forget what he had just done, but even after all the dead bodies he had witnessed in his time, that of a friend was not one that faded away. To see Kaidan's jaw spread wide open while smoke arose from the searing gash where Xur had impaled him was an image he would keep burned in his mind forever.

Just one more thing the Empire would answer for.

He came up to the abandoned factory he had trekked to, its walls rusted and degrading with each day that passed, threatening to collapse for good. Iridonia was never known for its scenery.

Using both arms to force open the door, it creaked and screamed as he walked in and shut it behind him. Lights flashed, and he quickly raised his hands.

"Rage against the dying light," he said, his voice reverberating through the quiet entrance.

After a moment, the lights flickered off, and a rag-tag armed soldier stepped forward enough that Xur could see them. "This way," he said, pointing to a set of stairs beside him that led below. The zabrak followed suit, descending the rusting stairs and into a central reconstructed meeting area through a few corridors, dim lights illuminating the room.

Saw Gerrera was there waiting for him, his head shaved, and body armor scratched, but looking none less determined. They both met in the middle, clasping hands together and sharing a one-armed hug.

"Good to see you," Saw greeted. "Heard you ran into trouble."

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Xur shook off as they pulled away, revealing the destroyed Inquisition hilt and tossing it on the metal table. "Thanks to our guardian angel."

"Glad to be of assistance," a female voice sounded from the other side of the table, stepping into the dim light, revealing herself to be Reyna Vorchenko, clad in an imperial naval uniform, her dotted insignia being one row longer than Xur last remembered.

"Promotion?" he asked.

She tipped her head in acknowledgement. "All those years of putting up with Tarkin have paid off. I've ascended to Vice Admiral, and I have formally regained his trust. With his favor, not even Lord Vader could touch me."

_You mean Anakin._

"With my new clearance I can get you virtually whatever you need."

Saw leaned forward. "What about surveillance? Did anyone spot Xur's duel with the Third Brother? We don't want the Empire swarming Iridonia."

"Do not worry. I've already ordered this place to be a blind zone, classified for a secret proxy mining project that I piggy-backed off a legitimate one," she explained. "I also sabotaged his communicator upon his departure. No one will know of his fate for some time."

"Good," Saw pounded his chest with his fist. "One less of those savages to worry about."

Xur growled, placing his hands at the edge of the table. "Not all of them."

Saw gave him a concerned look. "I don't see what you mean."

"The Third Brother's real name is Kaiden Alko. I know that because he used to be a Jedi…one of my old friends," Xur sighed, pacing away. He felt his rage building again, but he bottled it down. "I killed him…and I had no idea," he paused again, turning back to the table. "This needs to stop."

Saw shook his head. "He's the enemy now, Eon. We can't feel sorry for him."

"If we don't then who will?!" Xur shouted. "The Empire doesn't care about the Force. They just seek to use it to their own advantage…to eliminate the last of us…these _barbarians!_"

"Wishful thinking isn't healthy," Saw challenged back, stepping forward. "We keep fighting until there's no one left to fight."

"Dammit Saw, if we keep fighting, there'll be none of us left! Every day the Empire kills another force user, another asset that could help the cause…our cause! Something needs to be done."

Vorchenko didn't looked fazed by his anger in the slightest. "What is your thought?"

Xur grabbed ahold of the broken hilt. "I say we infiltrate where they're training them, we plant a big fucking bomb, and then watch from orbit when it blows!" he finished with a slam of the held hilt on the table.

Saw was almost livid. "You're insane. We don't have the manpower to pull something like that off, and even if we did, we have no idea where-," he was cut off by Xur tossing a pocket holoprojector in the middle, its sudden blue glow illuminating the room. The Third Brother's travel path was shown through the galaxy, and Xur prompted it to zoom into its origin.

"Mustafar System, the planet Nur," Xur pointed. "Fortress Inquisitorious."

Saw paused, his eyes fixed on the projection as Xur approached him. "I'm not asking for an army to storm it. I'm asking for you to back me up when I go in myself."

"An intriguing plan," Vorchenko mused. "But I fail to see how it is possible. As Saw said if the Empire knew where you were, they'd have the entire planet swarmed within the galactic day. If you march into that Fortress alone, you _won't_ come back out."

"Then I need a way to hide in plain sight," Xur suggested, trying to come up with a way to _actually_ pull that off. The majority of his quarry would be Force users, but he knew how to hide his Force signature, however he had never needed it for an extended period. The strain would add up quickly, and a single lapse in focus could end the mission. He hadn't even considered the fact that if he removed his mask, none of that would matter anyway.

When he looked back up after mulling his options, Vorchenko had her eyes closed, and he sensed her mind probing for options.

"This is a suicide run, Eon," Saw protested. "I appreciate your boldness, but we can't lose you. You're the only one of us who can stand up to the best of them."

"Rako Hardeen," she said, and both Saw and Xur looked her way. "That's how we get you in."

Saw's eyes narrowed. "Who's-,"

"Yes," Xur pointed. "Facial reconstruction and voice alteration…but who could I pose as? It'd have to be another zabrak."

Vorchenko smirked, revealing her datapad, and then hopping onto the holoprojector's frequency. With a swipe, she had the holo-file of an orange-skinned zabrak, his mugshot and information displayed.

"The Second Brother," Vorchenko presented. "While I have no information on his real name, he is one of the newest-serving inquisitors and has a reputation for being slow and particular with his hunts, resulting in him having one of the lowest kill tallies among them all. He is also known to 'play loose' while on the job."

"Play loose?" Xur asked for clarification.

"He's rather loquacious and easygoing," she explained. "But rumor has it that he's desperate for his big score…and what's a bigger score than Xur Eon?"

Xur's rage suddenly dissipated and a chuckle followed. "I see where you're going with this."

She tipped her head and cut off the hologram. "I can get the necessary medical equipment to complete the facial transformation, as well as a vocal emulator, and you needn't worry about any security codes or procedures. I can get you up to speed."

"Good," Xur smirked behind his helmet, feeling excited for the first time in almost five years. "This is going to be fun."

Saw raised his hands. "I'm lost. What's happening?"

Xur removed his helmet and revealed his lightsaber. "I'm going to go kill myself, and the Second Brother is going to help me do it."

* * *

The Second Brother waltzed down the loading ramp in a nonchalant fashion, his mannerisms sticking out among the rigid and stoic stances of the purge troopers that followed him. He relished in the royal escort, feeding on the needless attention that he nonetheless enjoyed.

"Vice Admiral Vorchenko," he greeted with arms spread, red and black helmet covering his features. "Always a pleasure to be blessed with your presence," he bowed as he approached her, who stood straight with her arms behind her back.

She shivered in repulsion, ready to get on with her role and be rid of such a pompous individual. "Second Brother. In all honesty, I'm surprised you showed. You aren't exactly known for your _punctuality_."

The inquisitor chuckled. "If you mean to compare me to those dreadful brothers and sisters of mine, I find that unfair. I'm my own _brand_ of hunter."

"I don't much care what you call yourself," she rolled her eyes. "Follow me, will you?" she flicked her head away from the escort, and he informed his purge troopers to remain behind at the shuttle.

"So, what's all the fuss?" he asked, keeping his voice down needlessly. "This'd better be good. I was supposed to hit up an opera with this beautiful miralian lady on Nar Shaddaa."

"You should count yourself lucky then, since I have relieved you of certain embarrassment," she stoically remarked as they walked away from the landing pad and into the industrial district, the same in which the Third Brother had been killed.

"_Ha_. So, you got jokes too, Vice Admiral?"

"If you consider Xur Eon's current location to be a joke, I can certainly pass it along to another," she shrugged, and then he grabbed ahold of her shoulder, pulling her to face his masked gaze.

"You're _shitting_ me. Sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman! Forget the opera, I'll-,"

"Take this and go," she passed on a homing device and pushed him towards the road, enticing him to continue alone. "Don't come back until you find him."

"Right, right, yes ma'am, Vice Admiral ma'am," he mock saluted, and continued down the path, watching the device blink as he progressed. "Can't compliment _any_ woman these days."

It was a few miles through the district, finding himself mostly alone, spare a few stormtrooper patrols that stiffened upon his appearance. He found comedy in their blind fear of him, since he knew full well how truly unimposing he was, despite his appearance.

He came to the edge of a canyon, appearing as if it was used to dump scrap outflowing from the deplorable factories that lined the area. The thick, black air was depressing, and he found himself worrying about his appearance as soot covered his clothing. In annoyance, he began to brush it off with his glove.

"You'd think these iridonians would take care of their planet," he mumbled to himself. "Just got this damn thing pressed," as he brushed himself off, the device stopped blinking, and he frantically pulled his hilt from his back, dropping the device in the process. "_Oh_, oh! He's here! Come on out Eon! I know you're here!"

There was no response.

He chuckled. "Too scared? Trust me, _I _get-," he was hit from behind, falling away from the canyon edge and landing hard on his back. "_Oof!_"

The Second Brother looked up and saw Xur Eon standing at the edge of the canyon, his orange blade ignited. "Looking for me?" he asked.

The inquisitor scrambled to his feet and ignited his blade, taking a step back, his stance ready and precise.

In _his _eyes anyway.

Xur scoffed in disbelief. "They sent _you_?"

"I sent myself, buddy," he retorted. "Got a tip from a beautiful and nice lady that you'd be here, ripe for the killing! I've been after you since I joined the Inquisitorious, and all that work is about to pay off!"

The zabrak twirled his saber. "I don't really care. Let's just get this over with," as Xur advanced, the Second Brother spotted a gas line that peaked out of the ground beside his foe, hissing as it leaked the combustive concoction. "When I'm done with you, there won't be anything left for your loved ones to bury. Your name will fade away in the annuls of history, forgotten like all the," Xur continued, and the Second Brother ignited his blade. "rest of you pathetic individuals."

He tossed his blade at the escaping gas.

It erupted in a torrent of flame, engulfing Xur completely as he frantically attempted to stoke the fire consuming him by the second. Taking advantage, the Second Brother force pushed Xur over the canyon edge, the zabrak screaming as he fell out of sight, his voice dissipating the longer he tumbled.

Then, an explosion ripped through the area, only revealing itself as a ball of flame, and the Second Brother heard him scream no longer.

After a moment, the Second Brother stood in disbelief, before eventually letting out a shout of pure elation. "_Ha!_ Burn you son of a bitch! Who's the big dog now motherfucker?! _Ha ha ha ha ha ha!_"

A probe droid floated away far above, relaying the recording back to command.

Xur Eon was dead.

* * *

_**Demeter**_**, 15 BBY**

**Medical Halls**

Reyna Vorchenko closed the video looping on her datapad, the image of Xur Eon bursting into flames and exploding in a fiery blaze fresh in her mind. To watch him die in such a way was…demoralizing to say the least, not to mention to such an imbecile like the Second Brother.

As circumstance demanded however, killing Xur Eon was the best move they had.

She turned down into the medical halls of her own ship, the converted Venator-class _Demeter_, ordering all medical staff to shore leave for the day and marking the irregularity as regular maintenance. The Vice Admiral needed the ship to herself.

Once in the medical bay, she looped all surveillance, even the back up cameras the Empire didn't think she knew about, and then proceeded into her personal patient room for her own needs. Shutting the sliding door behind her, inside was a stormtrooper, his helmet still on as he sat upright on the medical bed.

"I'm ready for a check-up Doc," the trooper said.

"Hilarious," Vorchenko deadpanned. "Helmet off."

He complied, and under the white and black helmet was the face of Xur Eon, his skin covered in dirt and soot. "So, how'd it look?"

She popped her eyebrows. "Like you went out in a pitiful blaze of glory."

Xur looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed. "Did you _really_ have to pick that idiot to be the one to kill me?"

She didn't look to be in much of a gaming mood, and Xur could sense her elevated stress, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of her. The Vice Admiral shrugged as she tapped on her datapad.

"We needed a zabrak, and also an inquisitor who has little contact with the others. Not even the original members of the Inquisitorious know him very well," she explained, finally looking away from her pad. "Anyhow, what's done is done. We need to get your transformation underway."

The zabrak sighed. "Alright, let's get to it."

Vorchenko set her pad down and pulled a grey, sealed box from the medical cabinet, and in turn activated a retinal scan to unlock it. "Any questions?" she asked, opening the container and reaching for some biohazard gloves.

"Tell me about the higher-ups," he asked.

"The Inquisitorious is formally run by the Grand Inquisitor," she explained, pulling the gloves over her hands with a snap. "A pau'an male with a pretty classified file, and all I can tell you is that he is rather formal himself."

"That's it?" he questioned as she approached with a wet wipe, beginning to clean his face of dirt and soot.

"As I said, his file is quite classified," she reiterated. "The fortress is also home to the Purge Troopers, a division specifically trained to kill Jedi. Notable Inquisitors include the Second Sister, Fifth and Sixth Brothers, Seventh and Ninth Sisters, all files _also_ very classified."

"Interesting," Xur grunted as she finished cleaning his face, returning to the box. "Sounds like this is going to be a real heist."

Vorchenko pulled a syringe from the box, prepping the needle, but then pausing. "This isn't a _heist_. This is by all logical accounts _sheer madness_, and if times weren't so bloody desperate, I wouldn't have agreed to do this."

"I can handle it."

"I-I don't doubt that, I just," she stammered, looking away. "Eon, if you die, it's over for us. You understand that, correct? And if you go in there, I can't help you. You will be on your own."

Xur sighed, leaning forward and allowing his head to droop. "Reyna, if we don't do this, one inquisitor _will_ get me eventually. No matter how powerful I am, it only takes one mistake for them to kill me, and the Empire won't rest until I'm dead," he assured, and then laid back in the bed, as he knew he'd have to. "Besides, I'm not even the Jedi's main plan against the Empire. I'm just a contingency…in fact I feel like I _always_ have been."

Vorchenko looked back at him, and he noticed her durasteel expression break for a moment. "You're my _General_, Eon. We won that damn Clone War on our own. We can win this one. I don't care what the Jedi have planned. _We'll_ do what needs to be done."

"Then let's do it."

She nodded, stepping forward and holding the syringe at his neck. "This is going to hurt," she warned, and then inserted.

Xur gasped and felt as if his face was tearing itself apart, his bones reshaping themselves the moment she had injected it. He stopped himself from screaming, covering his face in an attempt to alleviate the pain, but to no avail. However, after a few seconds, it was over.

Vorchenko grasped his shoulder, trying to peer through his hands as he breathed heavily. "Are you alright?" she asked.

When he pulled his hands away, he had the exact face of the Second Brother, his orange skin, black tattoos and all.

"Well, that _sucked_," Xur gasped. "How do I look?"

Vorchenko tipped her head. "Like an imbecile."

There was a knock on the sliding door, and they both froze. Knowing what to do, Xur put his helmet back on, and the Vice Admiral straightened herself out at the door. When it opened, the Second Brother was waiting there for her.

"Didn't you hear?" he asked. "I'm a hero now! All thanks to you!"

Vorchenko forced a smile. "_Fantastic_. Come in, will you?" she ushered, and the inquisitor wasted no time entering, allowing her to shut the door. In doing so, he noticed the fully dressed stormtrooper inside.

"Who's this?" he asked. "Oh, don't tell me you've been-," he was cut short as his throat closed in on itself, air blocked from reaching his lungs.

"Who's this?" Xur asked, removing his helmet. "I'm you."

The Second Brother looked on in fear and gasped. "Wait-," and then a blaster bolt ripped through his skull, ending his life the moment Vorchenko pulled the trigger. His body dropped to the floor, a smoldering hole through his forehead.

Vorchenko huffed in satisfaction. "Fucking circus animal. The galaxy is better off without drunken idiots like that one."

"Agreed," Xur nodded, stepping away from the bed and beginning to sift through his clothing, preparing to dress himself. "Vocal emulator?" Xur asked, and then was suddenly injected at the neck again. "_Ow_! The fuck?"

"That was it," Vorchenko said.

Xur was baffled, but then felt a pinching pain on his insides. "What kind _of_," his voice suddenly changed. "_Woah…what an odd_…feeling. That'll take some…getting used to."

"Better get used to it," she warned, rummaging through her container, and revealing a small, black box. "One last thing."

Xur stood and rubbed his neck, getting used to the new sound of his voice. "Huh?"

When she revealed its contents, Xur could only best describe what he saw as a slug. "What the hell is that?"

Vorchenko shrugged. "No one knows. This thing's file is more classified than any of the inquisitors, but Moff Tarkin owed me a favor. Apparently, it can hide your force signature."

Xur nodded, feeling nothing in the Force despite the creature before him certainly being alive. "How does it work?"

The Vice Admiral almost smiled. "Well, you swallow it."

Xur grumbled. "I was afraid you'd say that," the zabrak then reluctantly reached in and placed the living creature into his mouth. It slithered down his throat, making him gag, but the speed of it made the feeling short-lived. Still, his disgust was apparent. "This thing better not eat me alive."

"Guess we'll both find out," Vorchenko shrugged, holding out a hand. "Good luck, Second Brother."

Xur shook her hand. "Thanks. Guess I better get dressed."


	3. Into the Garden of Hell

**CHAPTER 2**

Into the Garden of Hell

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here."

**Nur, 15 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious**

Xur's face still suffered from heavy aches as he brought the Second Brother's TIE Interceptor down on his assigned landing pad, the heavy deluge pounding on the cockpit window. Not only that, but every word he uttered was met with discomfort as the emulator was still adjusting his vocal cords to project his voice a little higher pitched than normal. He silently thanked the Force that the Second Brother didn't have an accent, or he would've had to use a much more uncomfortable emulator that might've latched to his throat.

Not to mention the fact that the inquisitor was wearing _his_ old helmet, the replica of the Sith Empire's Imperial pilots from millennia ago. How the bastard had come across it was beyond him, and the only thing he could come up with was that he had been tracking him for some time. The irony was that it took his own deliberate giveaway for him to actually find his prey, only to believe he had success for a moment, and have it swiped from him at the expense of his own life.

Xur personally ditched the cape, though. Fuck capes.

He laughed to himself, and then winced. With a shake of his head, he forced himself to ignore the bother the emulator gave him. Even if the device was untraceable by scanners, he didn't want a medical examination to risk that exposure.

_If_ that was a _thing_ here.

As the engines powered down, Xur stilled his breathing. The Force was already ravaging his senses. Whatever this place was, it was not one of decency or pleasantries, and he would have to learn quickly to fit in to the surroundings.

With one last study of the Fortress layout and a silent prayer to _anyone_ that could listen, he opened the above hatch and let the downpour ensue. Climbing up, he gracefully dropped down from above, now taking in the surroundings. It seemed like most of the Fortress was actually underwater, while the top of it peaked out above the surface in a pyramid shape. Nothing about the architecture reminded him of the old Republic, which meant it had to have been either constructed in secret, or miraculously in the past four years.

As he approached the only door with the rain beginning to fog up his mask, it opened well before he reached it, and a squad of stormtroopers ran out, blasters in hand. Xur's instincts flared, and he could already feel himself naturally calling for his lightsaber, but the troopers assembled on each side of the walkway, facing each other to formulate a path for him to take.

He quieted his instincts, adjusting his stance to be more formal, something he was very _bad_ at, and then proceeded towards the door.

"Sir," the first two said, and Xur naturally nodded in acknowledgement.

"Sir," the next two said, and he reacted the same.

"Sir," the next two echoed.

Every trooper he passed acknowledged and saluted him, which partly made him sick. Anytime a commander's squad had such formal loyalty usually meant they themselves had a pompous attitude, one of the most irritating qualities in a living being.

When he passed through the door, he was greeted by a tall and black armored Pau'an, which Xur immediately recognized as the Grand Inquisitor, his stance proper and straight, enabling him to virtually tower over the shorter zabrak. The Dark Side oozed from the man's every pore, and Xur could already feel his own immersion.

"Welcome _home_, Brother," he greeted, his expression mixed pride and glee. "It has been so long since you've returned, and it seems not without good purpose."

Xur cleared his throat, trying his best to pre-alleviate his vocal pain. "Yes, Inquisitor," Xur bowed, almost throwing up in his mouth as he did so out of disgust. "It's great to be back…_here_, although this fanfare is really unnecessary."

"Oh, nonsense," the Inquisitor smiled. "You've eliminated perhaps our most elusive target…and in such _dramatic_ fashion. Because of you, _Xur Eon_ is dead."

Xur shrugged. "In all honesty we should probably give the fall and explosion more credit. They did most of the work."

The Pau'an chuckled, revealing his razor-sharp teeth as he eventually turned and guided Xur to the turbolift at the end of the red and black hallway. "Your humility, as usual, is unnecessary," he eased. "You will find that we are very gracious to our honored members, and _no_ expense has been spared for your accomplishment."

The two of them entered the turbolift together, and Xur felt his ears pop and readjust as they descended below sea level, down into the lower areas of the fortress…and the lower levels of the Dark Side. The deeper they went, the more Xur felt himself immersed in it; the strength it granted him, the _vision_.

The _power_.

He felt stronger than he ever had since his ill-fated duel with Palpatine, and part of him fed off it. If he was going to blend in, he _had _to, otherwise these inquisitors wouldn't need to see through his disguise to know he wasn't one of them.

"The Force is _strong _with you," the Inquisitor noted as the turbolift came to a halt. "It explains why you were able to best him, but I'm curious as to how I never noticed it before."

Xur partly seized, but expertly hid it away. "Ever since I fought him, I've felt more powerful than ever…as if I had always had this power, but it was dormant. Now it's awake."

"Perhaps so, Brother," the Inquisitor noted, prompting the lift door to open with a wave of his hand. "Perhaps so."

He led Xur down another hallway and took a right, leading to a large doorway that slid open to reveal what looked like a dining hall and bar.

With _everyone_ waiting there for him.

They all rose, black and red armored troopers and inquisitors alike, stopping all conversation. Xur almost shivered from the staring.

The Grand Inquisitor stepped forward. "Inquisitors and soldiers alike, proud defenders of the Empire. Today marks a historic event, as a great threat to the security and prosperity of this great nation has been vanquished," he exclaimed, receiving small cheers in approval. "One of our Brothers has returned, wearing upon him the blood of one that has slaughtered many of our fellow peacekeepers," he continued, now receiving louder cheers. "He has done what many of us were beginning to believe was impossible. His power has shown us the true greatness that we all share, and the vision of a perfect galaxy…a galaxy without the curse of the Jedi Order!"

He turned to Xur as they all cheered. "Go on. Show them."

Xur nodded and removed his helmet. "I killed Xur Eon."

"Glory to the Empire!" one inquisitor shouted, followed by others.

The zabrak raised his fist and smiled. "Glory to the Empire!"

Everyone erupted in cheer, and Xur's smile widened.

They had no idea.

* * *

"…I dropped right in front of him and said, 'Boom, you lookin' for this?"

The small crowd around Xur's table laughed at his false reiteration of the Second Brother's attempt on his own life, and he smiled, drink in hand. Despite having a deep desire to kill everyone around him, he found it oddly entertaining to have the worship treatment for at least a night. The irony of it all was too good to pass up.

One of the larger male 'Purge Troopers', Xur remembered, leaned forward, drink in hand. "How did you get the drop on him? They say he can smell an Inquisitor a system away."

Xur suppressed a hysterical laugh at the ridiculousness of that saying. The inquisitors make themselves too obvious, that's what.

"I winged it," Xur replied, shrugging. The masterful pick that Vorchenko had made for the Second Brother not only made it easy for him to assume the role, but the inquisitor had been away for so long he hadn't formed many relationships with his fellow Jedi hunters, making it easy for him to start anew.

The trooper shook his head along with many others. "_No,_ I don't believe that."

"It's the truth," Xur stood by his false story. "Sometimes you get lucky, or in _his_ case unlucky," he got a few chuckles from that.

One masked female inquisitor bounced up and down with closed fists. "Oh, tell me tell me! Did he scream when he died? How loud did he scream?"

Xur scoffed. "Couldn't hear it over the-,"

"What were his last words?"

Everyone's eyes panned over to the modulated voice who interjected, their menacing and mechanical looking mask covering their features, but enough for Xur to pick out that they were at least female.

"Uh…last words?" Xur pretended to think. "I think it was like _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!_"

Everyone laughed at that, except her, predictably. He sensed a lot of animosity within her but couldn't pinpoint exactly towards what. If it was towards him, then that was their own death sentence. Xur imagined that 'accidents' happening in the training room wouldn't be as scrutinized as they were for the Jedi.

Of course, that also meant _he'd_ have to watch his back as well, but the more of the herd he could thin now, the better.

He could feel the daggers she was staring into him even through her mask, and her crossed-arms stoic stance wasn't making him feel any easier. "Is there a problem, Sister?" he asked, which eventually drained out the last remaining laughs.

She pushed through the sitting troopers before her and leaned in. "I _knew_ Xur Eon."

"Yeah, and my mother's a droid," the large dowutin female mocked, which he recognized as the Ninth Sister, prompting only chuckles from fellow inquisitors, while the troopers seemed to know better. "Save your brooding for another time, we don't need your depression infecting us all."

"Depression?" the Sister questioned, her tone screaming manipulation, even if she wasn't attempting to. "You misunderstand. I'm more elated than any man or woman in this room that Xur Eon is ashes in an Iridonian refinery, but I don't believe for a second that such a worthless worm was able to best him."

She was leaning nearly nose to nose with him now, but Xur was never one to be intimidated. He had no idea how the Second Brother would react, but it didn't matter. He'd make his own name now.

"You still haven't answered my question," Xur said, slowly rising to his feet. "Is there a _problem_, Sister?"

She said nothing, just stared, and Xur could feel her anger building, her animosity…her _jealousy_.

"Maybe if you spent less time lounging around here, you might've got to him before me," Xur suggested. "Not that you could've bested him anyway. I wonder how he would've killed you. Maybe a bisect-,"

Danger sense flared and Xur backflipped in time to dodge her sudden retaliation from her drawn crimson blade. He quickly reached to his back and drew the Second Brother's odd hilt, keeping the two circle tracks flipped forward for a single blade only. There was clapping from the other inquisitors and cheers from troopers as they stood off, and even the Grand Inquisitor simply stood from his perch and observed.

_Guess this is just a thing._

She chuckled with sadistic delight. "I'm going to enjoy pulling you apart."

"I'm tough meat, sweetheart," Xur flirted, which apparently was one of the Second Brother's reputable traits. "You'd be at it awhile."

"The longer the better," she slashed heavily, in which Xur was able to block and swing back, only to see her deftly dodge with ease. In a quick countermove, she lunged and headbutted his stomach with the brunt of her mask, winding him unexpectedly. Her speed was unlike anything he had ever seen in an inquisitor, almost fazing in and out of existence with each of her movements. Xur trusted the Force to guide his defense, seeing every slash before it came, and doing his best to counterattack. He had to stop himself from using Vaapad since it would make his Jedi training origins far too obvious, which made stopping her all the more difficult.

She landed a kick to his knee, which made him grunt in pain and buckle his leg, and he barely stopped the decapitating blow with his crimson blade.

"Is that all?" she taunted as their blades locked.

Xur growled. He'd had enough of this.

With raw, force-enhanced strength, he pushed her blade away and somersaulted backwards. As she tried to lunge after him, he outstretched both hands and unleashed a hurricane-force push that knocked her off her feet and through two dining tables before finally coming to a halt against the durasteel wall.

He took a step forward, but a hand gripped his shoulder. "That's quite enough, Brother," the Grand Inquisitor implored. "I think you've made your point."

The zabrak kept his emotional output in check, but he knew he had lost control. The Dark Side was powerful enough here for him to feed off its energy, but he knew it was only a matter of time before it made him pay for its use. It had happened before…in fact it has happened many times over the span of his lifetime.

Maybe here, in a place so evil, he could learn to finally control and sustain that power.

"Perhaps that should be the conclusion of the festivities," the Grand Inquisitor announced, as the Sister who attacked him was slow to rise to her feet. "Return to your tasks, Brothers and Sisters. There is still much more work to be done."

Xur returned his hilt to his back and pulled his helmet from beside the chair he had sat in back to his hand, but before he could exit the dining area with the other inquisitors and troopers, the Grand Inquisitor did not relinquish his hold on his shoulder.

"Word of advice, Brother, since you obviously have become unaccustomed to our ways here," he warned in a low tone. "While your victory against Xur Eon may have gained you admiration from some, it has also multiplied your enemies," as he spoke, the Sister rose and gave one last look in his direction before leaving with the others, looking unfazed by any injuries she might have sustained. "The Second Sister is one of my finest students, and she had been searching for Xur Eon since she first donned that mask. We all believed she would be the one to finally end him, but you have taken that glory from her," he removed his hand from his shoulder and turned to walk away, perhaps back to his chambers. "I'd consider that, if I were you."

Xur appreciated the advice, but it was concerning that someone already knew he was out of place. If he was to survive, he'd have to be a fast learner, or eventually someone would sense that something was not right.

There was something about the Second Sister…something he couldn't place…some kind of feeling that was…

_Familiar._

* * *

**Anaxes Orbit, 15 BBY**

**ISD **_**Sovereign**_

Vice Admiral Vorchenko settled into her assigned seat around the table in the meeting room of _Sovereign_, one of the Star Destroyers under the direct command of Grand Moff Tarkin. She was one of the first to arrive, as always, followed by the various high-ranking officers that had been invited to attend his "special" meeting.

The chair to her left was empty, and it was the largest of all, which was easiest to deduct that it belonged to Tarkin himself. To her right was Wulff Yularen, one of her old colleagues from the days of the Clone War, and the rest were other grey-uniformed men who had fought their way to the top through cutthroat politics and backstabbing. Being the only woman in the room never bothered her, since it had been the case nearly her entire life, but ranking misogyny had only increased with the rise of the Empire. She had watched other women of her stature be passed up for promotion after promotion, despite being far superior to their male counterparts.

Luckily for her, Tarkin was not as short-sighted.

She could feel some of their looks upon her, like scavengers circling a dying animal, waiting for her first slip-up to take advantage of such a vulnerable target. They had tried since she first began as an officer of the Imperial Navy, and they would continue as long as she remained one. Their clearly painted expressions exposed their intentions so perfectly it was difficult for her to stop a smile from stretching across her lips.

Tarkin finally entered the room, and their expressions faded. He, however, did not hide his glee. "Gentlemen," he said, situating himself in the chair next to her. "Today will be a day long remembered. I have just received word from the Inquisitorious that Xur Eon was killed on Iridonia."

There were knocks on the table as well as smiles of approval at the news, and Vorchenko used their ignorance to bend her lips into her own.

"This warrior, the Second Brother, has alleviated perhaps our most consistent headache since the Empire's inception. Now, with his death, we can bring about a swift end to the remnants of the treasonous Jedi Order," Tarkin shifted in his chair, his head turning to Vorchenko. "Congratulations are in order, for it was our esteemed Vice Admiral who discovered his location and subsequently assisted in his ultimate demise."

Smiles faded, and she could observe the joy draining from each of their faces, although less so from Yularen beside her.

"This achievement has not gone unnoticed by our Emperor, and it is his will that Vice Admiral Vorchenko receives her own token fleet…as well as a promotion to the rank of _Admiral_ in the Imperial Navy."

Vorchenko was not easily caught off guard, but this level of reward was far beyond her own scripted expectations. With _this_ level of control, she could…she could do _far_ more than she ever envisioned.

"Outrageous," one officer protested, which she identified as Admiral Slovis, a large, human male with a much weaker will than his appearance. "A _woman_ of such youth? Preposterous! She is not qualified to even-,"

"Would you defy the word of our Emperor, Admiral?" Tarkin questioned, and she knew his defense was merely because she was his protégé, and to question her achievement would be to question his own.

She could stand up for herself.

"Tell me, Admiral: when you engaged insurgent forces over Malastare, why did you hold your overwhelming forces back, instead of flushing them out?" she asked.

Slovis narrowed his eyes, likely not expecting her to speak. "I don't see what you mean, _Vice_ Admiral."

"You were charged with routing insurgent Republic forces on Malastare, and yet with your overwhelming force, you were defeated, not to mention Sullust, where you allowed an entire pirate fleet past your blockade, which _ironically_, I ended up routing at Eriadu with well under half your force level-,"

"Do not presume to outrank me, _worm_," Slovis spat. "I have served this Empire fai-,"

"And you will continue to serve," Tarkin silenced him. "And you will cease this presumptuous outburst immediately, Admiral, or shall I report your displeasure to the Emperor?"

Slovis calmed himself, and Vorchenko could detect his fear quite visibly. "There will be no need, Governor Tarkin."

"I thought not. Now, _Admiral_ Vorchenko will be placed at the helm of the Star Destroyer _Valkyrie_, which will arrive over Anaxes shortly. In the meantime, we have more direct matters to discuss concerning…"

Vorchenko kept her emotions hidden as Tarkin rambled on, and in her success, she found guilt, guilt that this was all at the expense of a man she'd follow into Hell and back.

She could only imagine what _horrors_ he could be experiencing now.

* * *

**Nur, 15 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious**

Xur screamed, his arms surging with pain.

"Another," a man said beside him.

He screamed again, the pain only deepening.

"One more!"

Sweat poured from his face as the pain reached its peak, and then he gasped.

"One eighty-three!"

Xur dropped from the chin-up bar and threw his arms up, letting the relief of rest seep into his body. "Told you I could beat it," he said to the triplet of average troopers who had watched him work.

"None of us doubted you," one of them said. "But…I mean how do you feel?"

Xur rolled out his shoulders, his back muscles protesting from the workout. "I'll probably need help getting my suit back on but-,"

"Hey, big shot," the Ninth Sister butted in from the door of the trooper workout space. "Get your ass down to the dojo or the Grand Inquisitor will chop your balls off and feed them to a kath hound."

Xur turned to the troopers. "That's for me. Better get out of here," he said, pulling back over his top suit to conceal his toned upper body. "See you around."

None of them gave him a farewell as he exited the room, following the hulking Ninth Sister down the hallway, adjusting his suit to comfort as they did so.

"You shouldn't be in there," she said. "It makes you look weak, conversing with them."

Xur shrugged. "Anyone willing to press that claim is welcome to."

The Ninth Sister chuckled. "You think any of us really give a damn about you killing Xur Eon?"

"I don't really give a damn if you give a damn," Xur challenged.

She laughed at that as they came to a turbolift. "You know, I like you."

"Glad to hear it."

As they entered the turbolift and began their descent, the Ninth Sister giggled to herself. "Since you obviously aren't up to speed on things around here, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into by picking a fight with the Second Sister. She's a _mean_ bitch, trust me."

Xur crossed his arms. "She said she knew Xur Eon."

She shrugged in disinterest. "Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. Doesn't matter now. All that matters is she wanted to kill him, and you beat her to it," she said as the turbolift doors opened. She stepped out and said, "Have fun."

The zabrak scoffed. "I'm sure you're all just _begging_ for the Grand Inquisitor to pair us together, aren't you?"

"Oh, he will," she snickered. "I guarantee it."

Of course, he would. The Dark Side thrived off conflict, and what better way to feed that than to pit two steaming rivals against one another…not that anyone here was actually worth _considering_ to be his rival. Sure, they were imposing, and shouldn't be underestimated, but Xur had been trained by the second most gifted Jedi in the Order, not willing to restrict his training to only that of the light side of the Force. He was one of the most feared beings in the galaxy during the Clone Wars, and the more time he spent here, the stronger he became in the ways of the Dark Side.

Inching one step closer to balance, where he would become _unstoppable._

The dojo was a large rectangular room, which was different from the copy and paste trapezoid architecture that was all around the fortress. In the center was a line of grate panels that radiated intense heat below, which Xur deducted was probably lava or something else lethal. All inquisitors present in the base were waiting as he and the Ninth Sister joined the group, just before the Grand Inquisitor strolled through the opposite door.

"Line up," he commanded, and Xur did his best to follow their motions, finding a spot between two inquisitors he hadn't spoken to yet. "Before we begin today, I believe I need to reiterate something to you all. As inquisitors, some missions will require you to work as a team, and while competition is healthy for your success, animosity will just get you both killed. Thus," he turned and faced Xur. "Second Brother. Second Sister. Settle your grudge in whichever way you prefer."

The Second Sister stepped forward and turned to Xur, who hadn't stepped out of line.

He cleared his throat. "I mean we can talk it out if you-,"

"Combat," she said, making her way to the middle of the dojo.

Xur growled to himself in annoyance and stepped forward. "Fine, let's get this over with."

He situated himself opposite to her and drew his hilt, preparing his stance. The Grand Inquisitor tipped his head and stepped aside. "Very well, begin."

The Second Sister zipped towards him in an instant and landed a hard punch to his face, a non-lethal hit that wasn't enough for his danger sense to detect. Staggering back with his jaw throbbing, Xur forced himself to focus and intercepted her second fist with his arm, retaliating with his own right hook that only caught air as she fazed backwards at an intense speed.

Her chuckle was emitted in a deep tone, enhanced through her mask. "You're slow."

Xur ignited his crimson blade. "Next time you won't get a fist."

"Neither will you," she sneered and drew her own saber, charging forward again only to have her attacks parried with ease. Instead of relying on defense, Xur swung with two-handed power, and each of her defensive parries took their toll, threatening to blow her over entirely. However, she deftly ducked below one swing that carried the zabrak forward, and she was able to land a cross slash to his back that cut through the first few layers of his skin.

He grunted in agony, rolling forward to avoid her next backwards assault. Every movement now came with searing pain, and it was present on his face. "_Gah!_ Nice one," he admitted, but kept his stance ready.

She charged forward again, but this time he let the Dark Side guide his action. He pooled his pain and reached out, imagining the Second Sister frozen in place for him to retaliate. In a moment of clarity in this newfound side of the Force, a loud _boom_ sounded, and the inquisitor was suspended in her movement, just before she reached him.

She was stuck in the stasis field, the power that not even _he_ knew he had sparked feelings of awe from the other inquisitors, and the Second Sister could only watch as he slashed across her mask. His attack dropped the field, and she fell to the durasteel floor in a heap. Her helmet tumbled off her head, and she was left with heavy breaths. From the back of her head, with only black hair to see, she looked much younger than he anticipated, her augmented voice throwing him off.

"Very impressive," she said, and Xur froze. She had been telling the truth. He _did_ know that voice.

The Second Sister looked up at him, and Xur didn't dare react. He didn't dare scream. He didn't dare drop down and try to hug her then and there, and he hoped to the _Force_ that the slug thing he ingested to hide his Force signature did its job now.

Looking up at him was Trilla Suduri.

She rose to her feet, the woman he hadn't seen in nearly a decade, and the first person he had ever, _truly_ cared about…and he couldn't say _anything._

That was the worst torture he could think of. Not even what the Separatists had tried to do to him during Operation Countdown even compared to what was happening now. Trilla was _alive_ and standing right in front of him…and she was an _inquisitor._ First Kaidan, and now her. _None_ of it could be a coincidence.

"_Very_ impressive," she said again. "Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe you are worth something."

Xur wanted to scream. She was so _different_. He could only imagine what the Empire had done to her…what _Anakin_ had done to her.

He pushed it aside. He had to. It would have to be another thing the Empire would answer for.

"Truce?" he offered with an outstretched hand, hiding the searing pain still ravaging his body.

She shook his hand. "For now."

"Wonderful," the Grand Inquisitor said, stepping forward. "Now, we can begin…,"

As Xur found his place back in line, he didn't dare look her way. He couldn't.

This really was Hell.

* * *

**So the plot is set…**

**I have a dilemma that I haven't been able to decide for myself, so I'm asking for some help. How soon do you guys want to see Cal Kestis? I originally planned to have him come in after 5 to 7 chapters into the story, but I myself am itching to see him. Would you guys want to have a chapter kind of prequel to the game, or skip right to it? Let me know, and I'll make it work.**

**Currently I'm releasing chapters as I complete the chapters **_**after**_** them, so I can make edits where necessary.**

**Let me know how I'm doing! As I said, feel free to make suggestions, I'm all ears. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. To Trust the Devil

**CHAPTER 3**

To Trust the Devil

"Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair."

**Tion Cluster, 15 BBY**

**Wild Space**

To be a good pilot, one must have the reflexes to dodge asteroids flying well beyond the speed of sound, and also have the foresight to envision such occurrences. One must also know their ship and be able to tend to and also tailor oneself to its needs and flows. The ship had to become an extension of oneself, and in becoming a singular entity, the pilot _became_ the ship.

It also helps to have a co-pilot one could trust.

Xur Eon was at the controls at his own insistence, piloting what the Empire passed as "top-notch" for a military craft made specifically for a two to four-man crew. The reaction to his commands were clunky, and it felt as if every part had been roughly scrapped together. He had already pulled one nob from its place, in which his co-pilot chose to laugh at his struggles. In fact, she laughed at _every_ instance she could come up with.

He knew _why_ the Second Sister, or _Trilla_, was doing it. After a few weeks coming up on a month spent undercover as an inquisitor, he quickly learned that _no one_ was his friend, or honestly ever _could_ be. That on its own was fine, since he was truthfully there to murder them all, but the dreariness of it all was exhausting. He was glad to finally get an assignment away from the Fortress…just not stuck with the living manifestation of deception and manipulation. She didn't want to work with him either, and if she could find a way to get him killed, he knew she'd take it.

Xur didn't know where they were exactly, and he didn't much care. He was more focused on making sure the Imperial shit shack made it to safe harbor.

Another knob popped off when he turned it. "Fucking hell," he grumbled.

Trilla chuckled, her legs propped up on the controls, not bothering to assume her duties. She had her mask off, as did he, mostly on a silent show of strength that neither of them cared to reveal themselves to a potential rival.

"Since your incompetence has led us astray, you will entertain me with a story for compensation," she sneered. Her voice was like a cage of thorns around his heart, the same soothing one he had known when he was young, laced with hints of sadistic pleasure in making him suffer.

Xur kept his eyes forward. "Shut up and let me fly."

Trilla smacked her lips together in condescension. "_Awww_. Poor little man," she goaded. "Tell me: what were you before you became…whatever you call yourself?"

The zabrak kept quiet. Speaking about his past to Trilla could jeopardize his entire mission, and he _knew_ she'd be smart enough to know when he was lying. If she was _anything_ like the woman he knew, she could piece together the most minute details without much effort.

"You first," he eventually said.

She shook her head. "That's not how this works. You owe me, remember?"

"I don't owe you shit, sweetheart. You first."

Trilla looked away, and he felt a bit of pride in staving her off for now. He'd sneak a few looks her way between adjustments to their course, and despite her corruption to the Dark Side, she was certainly no less beautiful. In fact, part of him _preferred_ this version of her over the old…all lethal and _lithe_ and…

Xur shook his head. He couldn't reverse the building levels of Dark Side energy within him that had massed over his time as an inquisitor, so dark and perverse thoughts were becoming much more common than he preferred. Everyone needed to be utterly _convinced_ he was with them.

"I was a weak-willed and naïve Jedi," she said, and then turned back his way. "Now you."

Xur finally looked her way. "We have something in common," he noted, which was not entirely a lie…he _was_ naïve. "What a surprise."

"A surprise indeed," she smirked. "Although, I don't believe I've noticed much of a change in you."

Xur scoffed. "Now that was just lazy. You're going to have to do better than that, Hun."

The Ninth Sister's words echoed: _Just flirt with her. She_ hates _that. _For being an obvious threat to everything he stood for, the Ninth Sister had been perhaps the only person willing to actually give him advice, and he had admittedly learned a lot from her, even if she hadn't realized she was teaching him anything.

"Who was your Master?" Trilla asked, not fazed by his flirting for now. "Your skills are proficient…and slightly unorthodox even by my standards, not to mention your unnatural connection to the Force."

Xur grumbled in annoyance. "He was a Jedi Master by the name of Nunya Damn Business, now why don't you be a lady and take your boots off the-,"

Danger sense rattled his spine and he jerked the stick hard to port, watching as cannon-fire blazed past them on the other side. "Son of a-," he gasped, engaging in evasive maneuvers to avoid their pursuer. Trilla still made no movement to help. "Eyes on the scanner, will you?!"

"Oh no," she snickered. "This is _far_ more entertaining than I could've imagined."

Not knowing where their pursuer was, along with the poor condition of the ship, they sustained a hit to the starboard engine that the shields managed to stave off. Boiling, Xur had his saber in hand and ignited it, pointing the blade directly at Trilla. "Get on the damn scanner, now!"

She chuckled, unmoving. "Oh, Brother. I've seen the way you look at me. I couldn't think of an emptier threat than the one before me now."

He didn't _want_ to kill her, in fact he'd made it part of his mission to get her out of the Inquisitorious, but right now she was making that nearly impossible.

Time to bring out the big guns.

Deactivating his saber, and trusting the force to guide his movements, he jerked the ship _hard _to starboard, knocking her head into the console beside her at his amusement, and finally catching a glimpse of their assailant.

"_Cunt_," she cursed, shaking off the throbbing pain in her head as she pulled her feet from the controls. "I'm going to skin you alive for that."

"Yeah, well worry about that _after_ we shake these pirates!" Xur urged, continuing to dodge incoming fire, only to be knocked forward by a direct hit. "That one shredded our shields! One more and we're both dead!"

Trilla begrudgingly looked down at the scanner, and Xur couldn't worry about her building hatred towards him at the moment. "Short range fighter," she relayed. "Likely from the planet nearby."

"Ah, thank you for being useful for once," Xur grumbled, fighting the controls as the ship began to burn at the aft section. "Too bad we're already shit out of luck!"

Xur pulled the ship towards the brown-green planet, taking almost everything it had just to alter its current course. Trilla's anger was now at fever pitch. "_Silence_, vermin! If we survive this, I will-," the console in front of her exploded, and her head drooped forward, her body only held in her seat by the belt around her waist.

"Sister?" he called and received no answer. He extended his senses, and still detected life force, which shuddered relief through him. It seemed that the pirate fighter broke off, which meant that they either wanted them alive, or just didn't want whatever cargo they were carrying to be destroyed.

The ship broke the atmosphere and was virtually dead. Engine power was exhausted, and everything else might as well have been burning. Once they were low enough, he'd have to eject.

Trilla was still out _cold_.

He'd probably be better off if he left her to die, assuming the crash would actually kill her, and his mission to tear down the Inquisitorious could continue with no further roadblocks…but to leave _Trilla_ to die…

Xur unbuckled himself from the pilot's chair and stood, careful to keep hold onto the dividing console as the ship continued to barrel its way to the surface. Grabbing ahold of her chair for support, he unbuckled her from the seat and slid in underneath, struggling to strap the both of them in with her head in the way of his vision. Once he heard the satisfying click, he reached for the eject lever and pulled.

Nothing happened.

"Imperial piece of shit, work!" he shouted and pulled again. This time the seat launched from its place and through the above hatch. Xur kept his arms wrapped around Trilla's waist tightly as the g-forces weighed down on them both, wind rushing past his ears in a deafening torrent. The parachute deployed, and the chair jerked as it caught air, slowing their descent.

The belt sheared loose and they both tumbled out of the chair. Xur's stomach was in his throat as he barely grabbed ahold of the chair's underside bar, and he screamed as Trilla's weight threatened to tear his arm from its socket. Looking down, he saw they were approaching a temperate surface, and that their ship had crashed already in a forested area.

His grip slipped from the bar as his arm gave out, and they fell, at least a thousand feet from the surface. Through the rushing wind, and knowing he had a precious few seconds to save them both, he wrapped his left arm around Trilla's waist in a vice grip and used his free hand to project the most powerful force push he could. The initial burst slowed their descent, but he could feel her slipping from his grip each time he pushed.

Slowed as much as he could, he turned towards the sky and relaxed himself. Their impact was _hard_, not to mention being sandwiched between Trilla and the dirt.

"_Agh!_" he screamed, his entire body protesting what he had just undertaken, dumping Trilla's body from atop his and finally catching a few much-needed breaths. His shoulder was in excruciatingly bad shape, almost completely useless to him in its current state, and the scar on his back that Trilla had given him was acting up once again.

He'd have to manage.

Looking to Trilla, he rolled over and kept her face-up, and then checked her pulse via her neck.

She was still alive.

Whether that was a good thing or not, remained to be seen.

For now, Xur rolled onto his back and let himself breathe…deep, heavy, air-filled breaths of calm.

"Fuck."

* * *

_Trilla ran for her life._

_ Her legs carried her as fast as they could, and it seemed as if the environment around her passed by faster than she thought was possible. She ran faster. The breathing was getting closer, the sound of metal boots crushing anything beneath them. _

_ She ran._

_ "No, no, no..." she mumbled to herself in between panicked breaths, her hand reaching for the saber that wasn't at her waist. "Not-,"_

_ The ground slipped from beneath her, and she fell, her feet dragged by an unseen menace. She desperately clawed at the dirt, only to be dragged more violently._

_ Her throat closed itself, and she struggled to breathe, pulled from the ground and suspended in the air. Clawing at her neck for the hand that wasn't there, she witnessed the same dark shadow that forever plagued her visions._

_ "You have failed, Inquisitor," it said, its tone ominous and mechanic, reaching to the darkest parts of her soul._

_ She screamed._

* * *

Trilla screamed as she awoke, dirt falling from her hair as she sat upright. She reached to her waist for her hilt, but only grasped at air. Hands were upon her and she slung her arm back in retaliation, only to have her wrist caught with ease.

"Relax, Sister," the Second Brother eased. "You're safe."

"_Where_ is my blade?" she spat, forcing herself free from his grip and vaulting to her feet in an instant.

The unmasked zabrak kept a hard gaze upon her. "You're _welcome_. If it wasn't for me, you'd be burning rubble along with our-,"

"I don't ask for _anything_ twice," Trilla growled, her stockpiled rage threatening to spill over.

"You can learn."

Over the past month of being forced to work alongside him, the Second Brother had proven to be the most infuriating man she had ever met. The only agonizing fact that kept her from permanently silencing him was his apparent unnatural power comparatively to them all. She _never_ remembered this pitiful slime ever being a match for her; always breaking bread with his underlings, involved in multiple affairs with women he had come across during his assignments, and always adopted the sloppiest versions of the most pathetic forms of…

She caught herself. He was just trying to throw her off balance, and she couldn't allow him to succeed…not in _these_ circumstances. With a breath, she _focused_ her infuriation with him, instead of allowing it to manifest and consume her, using it to intensify her power and project her own dominance.

Trilla crossed her arms, adopting a less imposing stance. "What happened?"

The Second Brother returned to his seat, perhaps feeling as if she had calmed down enough for him to drop his guard. "Pirates attacked, you wouldn't use the scanner, engines blew, ring any bells?"

Her cranium _was_ aching more than usual, and the last thing she remembered was threatening to skin him alive. She must've been incapacitated somehow, and not by him, otherwise she'd be long dead.

"How did we get here?"

"The pirates shot us down, but didn't finish us off, so I ejected us both from the cockpit. Despite your unconscious state, I was able to get us to the surface," he explained from his sitting spot. "As I said before, _I saved your life_."

"I did not miss what you said," Trilla coolly replied. "We must get off this planet and return to our mission."

The Second Brother snickered. "Do you even remember our mission, or did that explosion jog your memory? In fact, let's test it out."

"That _won't_ be necessary," she insisted, turning away from him, but still keeping her senses alert. Despite his meek and weak-willed personality, she didn't yet have a firm picture of the extent of his abilities, and still remained wary of any tricks he may still be hiding under his façade.

Admittedly, her memory _was_ a _little_ foggy.

"If you say so," the Second Brother shrugged. "Our mission is to confirm that potential rebel groups are hauling supplies from Imperial runs, and if so, eliminate the group in its entirety. Obviously, it appears that this simple confirm and eliminate mission has more to it."

"Your grasp of the obvious is _truly_ inspiring," Trilla mocked, scanning the terrain. Mostly temperate with dry brown-green hills and a forest in the distance, the planet wasn't too unpleasant. It certainly could be worse.

"As is your commitment to assisting me," he retorted, Trilla detecting edge in his voice, resulting in a slight smile to perk up her lips. "Why do you test me at every god damn turn?"

"Because frankly, Brother, you're not worth my attention or effort," she shrugged, turning to face him again. "Your commitment is inadequate, your demeanor is pathetic, and you're the worst imbecile I've ever met."

This time he sprung to his feet and marched forward, coming up nose to nose with her, his eyes suddenly as serious as she'd ever seen them. They stared for a moment, neither of them making a move to attack, but Trilla felt something…_familiar_ about him. It was as if his façade had been broken, and his true self had finally been revealed before her.

He almost whispered. "You're a cold little bitch, aren't you?" She didn't leave his stare, although her fist clenched at the sound of his demeaning insult. "You spend every waking moment imagining all the ways you could kill me, all because I killed your precious little boyfriend before you had the pleasure. Is that what this is all about? Is that why you've always got a whomp rat up your ass around me?"

The Second Brother scoffed dismissively and turned his back. "Get the fuck over it. If my commitment is inadequate, then yours is flat out _nonexistent_."

Something inside her broke. "You cannot judge me!" Trilla shouted at his turned back as he walked away. "You could never understand the hardship of a _real_ inquisitor. You simply _chose_ to become one! I was _betrayed_."

"Oh, _here_ we go," the Second Brother dismissed as he sat back down. "The old 'blame it on somebody else for how shit my life is' argument. Every one of you sorry bastards has the same, pathetic, cliché story. None of you have any _fucking _accountability!"

"_Ah_, and you're so different, aren't you?" Trilla challenged. "You were never subjected to the torment we all shared!"

"You don't know _anything_ about me."

"No? You were born on Dathomir and adopted and raised by a Coruscanti family of wealth. When you were discovered to be force sensitive, they denied you from the Jedi Order, which in turn _spared_ you from any indignities that followed. After the Empire rose in place of the Republic, you joined the Inquisitorious, not on circumstance or requirement, but on a _dare!_" Trilla recounted. "And now you sit here and have the _nerve_ to question _my_ commitment to this cause?! I am an inquisitor to make everyone who _ever_ dared to harm me _pay_ and suffer as _I_ have!"

The Second Brother had calmed himself by now, and actually looked as if he was _listening_, not considering his next witty insult. "So why did you hate Xur Eon so much?"

"He-," Trilla paused. She had said too much, and she hated herself for allowing him to prod her so easily. It was as if he _knew_ where to poke…where her vulnerable points were.

Like he knew _her_.

"Feeling better now?" he asked.

She grumbled. "Your condescension is-,"

"It's not condescension. It's genuine," he assured, and she could sense the truth in his words, which instinctively made her sick…but brought forth undeniable surprise…a _welcome_ surprise. "If we're going to finish this mission, I need to know I can depend on you."

Trilla turned away, admittedly embarrassed more than anything.

"You might need this too," he said, and Trilla caught an object she sensed he tossed to her, which she recognized as her hilt.

"I have a feeling these pirates are better equipped than we were led to believe."

* * *

Xur and Trilla headed directly for their ship crash, running into small groups of roughly dressed human pirates along the way. None of them were a match for the both of them, and to maintain the secret of their survival, they had to kill them all, something Trilla enjoyed a little _too_ much. Most of them were outfitted in outlander gear, common to outer rim worlds, but there was also an array of old Republic weapons; DC-17 blasters, standard issue scopes, and some even wore clone helmets.

The zabrak vaguely recalled campaigns to the Tion Cluster during Operation Countdown, mainly to secure routes to Raxus that he, Anakin, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan never ended up using by war's end. These pirates must've raided the return shipments when the war ended, expecting retaliation only to discover that the Empire had no use for such models any longer.

_Ahsoka Tano._

He didn't know where she was, nor did he want to, not in his current state. The two of them parted ways after a large invasion that revealed things he'd rather not revisit now, and Xur knew that Palpatine would be coming after him, thus if she remained it would only endanger them both. He didn't even know if she was still alive, and they hadn't parted on the best of terms, especially with his newfound lack of reluctance to use the Dark Side of the Force. The Empire _had_ to pay.

_Anakin_ had to _pay_.

Something Trilla had said had bothered him throughout their trek to the wreckage, how she had become an inquisitor to make those who had harmed her pay for their transgression. Despite what he considered his moral high ground, and his restraint against control or needlessly murdering those in his path, their goals were nearly identical, and here he was, serving as an inquisitor. Part of him _enjoyed_ it. There was almost a nostalgic familiarity with traveling the galaxy with a lightsaber, righting the wrongs of the nation he served.

_And_ with _Trilla_ no less.

Maybe…maybe if he remained, they could…

No. He'd be living a lie the rest of his life, and in time, they _would_ discover who he was, and none of that would matter. The only chance he would ever have at peace, would be a galaxy without the Empire.

Saving _her_ was another matter. He had never turned anyone from the Dark Side, and he himself wasn't much free of it either. She had so much _rage_ within her, he could almost feel it burning away at his essence just standing near her. Xur had released the darkness' hold on him through expelling it in combat, but that may not be possible for someone without his unique abilities. There had to be a way for her to _let go_ of her rage.

She said she was betrayed, but by who? Her clones? No. She hadn't been around clones long enough for her to feel such hatred, and even _he_ did not hate the clones as much as he hated their puppeteer.

Her master? No, couldn't be that. Cere Junda was as much a Jedi as Obi-Wan Kenobi. She wouldn't have betrayed Trilla. She would've died before the Empire turned her.

Trilla certainly hated _him_, but that couldn't be it, not to fully give in to the Dark Side. There was more to it, he knew that, and he'd need to observe her more to discover the truth.

"Get down," Xur whispered as he pulled Trilla down behind a bush with him, to her detectable slight displeasure. The ship had crashed within a forest, giving them plenty of areas to approach unseen, but the wreckage had at least twenty pirates present, probing and digging through it for any salvage.

"Twenty-five, thirty men," Trilla noted. "Five of them heavily armed. We can circle around, and each take a side," she said, and rose, only to be stopped by Xur pulling her back.

"Hang on now," Xur insisted, and she gave him a tested look. "These pirates are armed with Imperial-grade weapons, unlike those groups we found."

"Yes, that's what we came here to confirm, now we eliminate."

"No, wait, something doesn't feel right," Xur continued, feeling an edge in the Force. "If we kill them all, we'll never find out why."

"We have orders-,"

"To _confirm_ and eliminate. We haven't confirmed jack shit yet."

"Then I'll take _one_ alive," Trilla offered, and then stalked off before he could stop her. He could imagine seizing ahold of her with the Force and dragging her back to face him. He _knew_ how _easy_ it would be, but not only would that reveal them to the pirates, it would certainly convince her he wasn't who he portrayed.

No choice then…unless…

Xur popped out from behind the bushes, raising his hands to pointed blasters. "Hey, laser brains!" he called, not detecting any immediate danger from them, which was slightly a surprise.

"Hands in the air, skug," one of the pirates pointed, with a few of the heavies keeping their blasters trained on him.

"Woah, woah, _hey_, no need for the blasters, just passing through," Xur eased.

One of the female pirates aimed closer. "Fuck off, this one's ours."

Xur took their time of confusion to administer his surroundings, spotting multiple boulders behind a few of the heavy troopers, and Trilla was nearly in her position. Calling through the Force, he subtly wiggled one boulder free of the ground.

"Yup, my mistake, enjoy," Xur admitted, spotting Trilla preparing to strike.

The other pirate scoffed. "_Asshole._ Shoot to kill!"

Xur yanked the boulder towards him, bulldozing two of the heavy troopers, bones cracking upon impact as they were instantly killed. The zabrak pulled again, using it to cover him from the onslaught of blaster bolts that rained down, drawing his crimson blade.

Then Trilla's killing spree began.

Knowing his distraction had earned her multiple immediate kills, he heaved and rocketed the boulder back at his attackers, crushing bodies beneath it as blood splattered throughout the created clearing. He ignited both blades and spun them before him, now charging at the remaining pirates covered in their comrades' blood.

"They're blasted Jedi!" one heavy shouted, before being impaled in lightning manner, Trilla virtually appearing from thin air. She fed on his last gasp of breath and pulled her blade free, deflecting blaster bolts with a sadistic ease, embracing the fear and pain she inflicted upon each of her victims. None of them could track her movements, and before long, many of them had chosen to break off into the forest.

Xur pulled one from afar with an outstretched hand and impaled the poor soul with a yank, dropping his limp body before the others, who had also begun to flee into the forest. There was no pleasure in what he had just done…only _necessity_.

As they cleared the ship area, Trilla reappeared, dragging one of the wounded pirates behind her, his left leg severed at the knee. His grunted pains were becoming less appealing the longer they persisted, and Xur almost had to look away.

Trilla looked as if she had just engaged in the most euphoric intercourse of her existence.

"_One_ alive," she said, tossing him at Xur's feet, writhing in agony. "Just as I promised."

He was grunting, and he radiated fear like a burning star. "I'll say anything, j-just don't hurt me anymore!"

Xur made no movement. He was completely shell-shocked. Recalling what he had done…what _she_ had done…it was…

It _wasn't_ him.

But that was the point. That was the price of this mission, to watch as his own soul broken down, his old self shredded to oblivion like the others. That was the life of an inquisitor.

_This_ was the price of victory…but was it too high?

Saw would say no. Vorchenko…he wasn't sure.

Ahsoka…Ahsoka would never look at him the same way again. He knew in that moment, that if he was to destroy the Inquisitorious, he would have to destroy _himself_ with it. In that, he could live with, if it resulted in the first stage towards the end of the Empire.

He knelt, abandoning his old life, and embracing his new one.

"What are you doing with Imperial weapons?" he asked.

He shivered, and Xur was beginning to feel rage within the man, washing over his fear. When he said nothing, his eyes panned to Trilla. "Look bud, you can either tell me what's going on, or you can tell _her_. Your choice."

His fear returned, and Xur could feel Trilla's hunger for pain building next to him. "You think us pirates," he gasped, still clenching at his searing stub. "We are _far more_. We are the _Greater Imperium_."

"Greater Imperium?" Xur asked. "Explain."

Now the man was _chuckling_, and Xur flicked his head at Trilla. She grabbed ahold of him and suspended her palm before his face, and the zabrak felt the Force crackle beneath it. He screamed in agony, her technique projecting pain throughout his body, making him feel as if he was burning alive. Never before had he seen such a barbaric technique used upon another living being, not since he had witnessed Anakin choking victims with an outstretched hand.

He pulled at her arm, and she stopped, allowing him to breathe.

"My friend here can do this all day," Xur implored.

"_Oh_, I certainly can," Trilla sneered. "Greater Imperium. Tell us, and your suffering will end."

"Through the forest," he almost wept. "Outpost. Just…don't do that again."

"You needn't worry," Trilla assured, igniting her blade and killing him before Xur could stop her.

The zabrak grumbled. "Well that was needlessly barbaric. Feel like you got your point across?"

Trilla chuckled with a sadistic tinge that nearly made him shiver. "I believe so, yes."

Xur wanted to be angry with her, but instead he…_laughed_.

"Oh, you're fucking horrible, aren't you?"

She actually _smiled_ at him for once. "Your admiration is unnecessary, Brother, but accepted regardless," and then almost pranced into the forest. "Let us see this _outpost_, shall we?"

"Right behind you."

* * *

Above stood a guard, armed with an E-11 standard issue blaster, his eyes focused on the view of the horizon from his perch. With the sun just dipping below it, it was certainly a sight to behold, the various orange and purple colors painting the sky with their extravagance. He must've been at peace in that moment, relishing that his shift may be coming to an end at last.

It was almost a pity to watch him tumble over the railing and fall down the perilous cliff face to his death.

Trilla reengaged the pull mechanism at her belt, allowing the thin cable to easily support her weight and carry her to the edge of the outpost platform, where she deftly vaulted and cartwheeled onto her feet. As she severed the end of her cable from her belt, she was greeted to the pained grunting of the Second Brother as he pulled himself over with only one good shoulder.

"Are you…," he struggled. "gonna help me?"

She dusted her gloves and turned away. "I'm sure you can handle it."

He scoffed in disgust as he finally managed to pull himself over. "I'll…remember this," he wheezed through heavy breaths. "It's a wonder the whole outpost doesn't know we're here, you know with that man _screaming_ the whole way down."

Trilla scanned the area, noticing that most of the base was built within the cliff face, so an accurate reading on its size from here was difficult. She had a few theories on this "Greater Imperium", all of them smelling of _treason_, but she mostly deducted they could either be a mercenary band, pirates or, in the worst case, an offshoot of the Empire itself. While the latter was extremely unlikely, it was not _impossible_. She had been trained to follow _every_ lead, no matter how slim, since that was where Jedi would _always_ be found, sulking under a rock on a remote moon, or hiding in plain sight among a work force.

No one could hide from _her_.

"Listen, I know you spend a lot of time not giving a shit about your companions, but I'd ask that you make _one_ exception for once in your god damn life," the Second Brother pestered, his left arm hanging uselessly at his side.

"What would you have me do?" she asked. "Carry you the rest of the way?"

"That _would_ be nice, but uh, I don't think you could take my weight, honestly," he commented. "Not with _that_ frame."

Trilla paused for a moment.

_Did he just…did he just call me weak?_

She grumbled. Of course he did. "Fuck off, will you?"

The Second Brother giggled. "Lighten up, Hun, I'm just messing with you. I'm sure you could-," he paused, and then suddenly pushed her behind a few crates directly in front of them, peeking his head up to get a view. "Looks like someone came to check on your friend," he whispered, while she shrugged off the sudden landing.

Peeking over herself, she spotted five men dressed in stormtrooper armor, but each with spray-painted insignias on their chest. Whatever outpost this was, it certainly was _not_ sanctioned by the Empire.

She pulled her head back. "Looks like your earlier assumption was correct. These aren't mere pirates."

The Second Brother gave her an I-told-you-so look. "Plan of attack?" he asked.

"Get help," Trilla sneered.

"Huh?"

She popped out from behind the crates, tears already flowing down her face. "Help me _please!_ My friend, he's injured!" she pointed to the zabrak.

"Hold it!" the troopers warned, pointing their blasters.

"_Please!_" she cried, approaching them. "He's dying!"

"Where did you come from?" they asked, reeling in confusion.

"Down there!" she pointed at the floor, and all five of them looked. Her saber was ignited in her hand in a flash, and she cleanly decapitated each of them with ease, using the quick distraction.

She chuckled. "Idiots. I killed a Jedi with that once, you know?" she explained as the Second Brother came up beside her.

"Unorthodox," he noted. "But the results are there…I guess."

Then the alarm blared, as expected.

"Did you account for _that_?" Second Brother pointed.

"I'm almost insulted you didn't think so," she replied, and then walked in the direction the troopers had come. "This must be some kind of mercenary band, which means when attacked, they retaliate with the full might of their army, if they believe they can win, of course."

"So we're our own bait?" he surmised.

She only gave him half of her face as she turned with a smirk, troopers flooding out the outpost side door with their blasters pointed. The predictability of it all made her want to laugh almost manically.

"Mercenary scum," she said, her hilt still in hand. "I'd suggest that you all surrender and lay down your weapons, and I might consider letting each of you live."

There was baffled silence from each of them, followed by disbelieving laughter. "I think _you're_ the one who should surrender, little lady."

She caught the Second Brother chuckling to himself. "Think they bought it?"

"Duck," she said.

He sighed, this time picking up on her idea. "Oh fuck."

As he did as ordered, Trilla ignited both blades and hurled it around her, the sudden attack bisecting the first row of troopers surrounding them, and then landed back in her hand. Halving the number of enemies in one stroke, Trilla went on the offensive as the Second Brother watched her back with only one good arm. She fed on their fear of her, quickening her lethal movements and enhancing her strength, cutting down each of them with literal ease.

"She's…too…powerful!" one of them gasped as he was diagonally cut down at the mid-section, his life ended instantly.

"Retreat!" another ordered, before suffering the same fate. They all ran, most jumping over the ledge and firing their own ascension cables or activating jetpacks.

"Clean slate on this outpost!" she spotted what looked to be the commander shouting into a comm-link. "You won't get away with this, Imperial slime!" before activating his jetpack and tumbling off the edge. Trilla moved to pursue but was jerked back.

"Unless you can fly, it's no use!" the Second Brother urged. "We need to get what info we can from a console inside!"

Trilla watched the commander fly away, finding satisfaction in imagining the screams he would emit under her grasp…which would have to be enough. The Second Brother was right.

"Come on then," she said, and they both jogged through the door, finding multiple consoles to work with, a window overlooking the cliff face. "Hurry it up."

They split up, each taking their own console and sifting it for information. Trilla was an expert slicer, and she was in the system within half a minute, only to find that a purge order had already wiped most of the files. Her fist clenched, and with the Force to enhance it, she punched straight through the screen in frustration.

"There's nothing left!" she shouted.

"Dammit. Same here," he confirmed.

She was livid. They had come so close, despite their perilous situation, they had nearly made what could've been a discovery worthy of the Emperor's attention. This Greater Imperium could not be a simply mercenary band, not with how equipped they were. Simple raids couldn't go on this long enough to outfit a group so effectively…she'd stake her life on it.

Yet she had no proof.

"Doesn't look like they were any more than a rag-tag group of pirates," the Second Brother figured coming up alongside her. "Too bad."

"I want a team to strip this place clean. If they find _anything_, I want to know about it," she huffed.

"_Relax_," he eased, gripping her shoulder, which made her pause. "I think the fact that we're still alive is reward enough."

She didn't remove it. Her curiosity got the better of her this time.

"Shit, I'll admit it, I didn't think I'd enjoy working with you at all," he said, dropping his hand from her back and pacing away. "Who knew I'd be wrong about something?"

Trilla kept her eyes on the sunset, her arms crossed. "Who knew."

Deep down, she _was_ thankful he had saved her life, but an inquisitor _never_ admitted her weakness.

_Especially_ not to their partner.

* * *

As Xur Eon walked away, he looked down into his right hand where his miniature data drive sat.

Its troves _full_ of information on the Greater Imperium.

* * *

**Guest: I'm not revealing endings. Sorry bud.**

**That one was fun to write. I kinda made it up as I went and I really like how it turned out. Hope you enjoyed!**

**Next chapter is a time skip (not huge) to Bracca, where the "shit hits the crapper", if you know what I mean. See you then!**


	5. The Bashing - Author's Cut

**Bonus Scene  
****The Bashing – Author's Cut**

**15 BBY – Fortress Inquisitorious**

"Do you not drink?"

Xur was pulled from his train of thought as Trilla's question sounded off in his skull, her voice having an eerie effect on him, as always. He could be in the deepest of dream states only to be immediately alert once she began speaking, and he couldn't determine if that were a good thing or not.

"What?" he asked, turning towards the Inquisitor, who sat back in her chair with one leg propped up on the table they shared.

"Am I boring you?" she asked…which was a disguised threat, and he knew it.

"If you were boring me, I'd tell you," he promised, finally removing his helmet and setting it aside, just as she had for her own.

She chuckled at that. "Yes, I imagine you would."

Since what had happened in the Tion Cluster, Trilla had been oddly more tolerant of him than before, especially with their less-than-ideal introduction only a few months ago. It was strange…and somewhat unsettling, as he imagined he may just be her next target for termination, drawing him in only to drive her blade through his abdomen once he got too close.

By the Force…was it hard to resist. _Any_ prospect at being Trilla's friend got him excited and hopeful, two things he should not be letting himself feel under any circumstances as of now. The Second Sister was, by all means, a manipulative harpy who would sell him out at the first chance she spotted, and it quite literally put his heart atop a cutting board and sliced it to a million tiny pieces.

The zabrak was beginning to _hate_ the fact that he still loved her.

"What's the matter?" she asked, setting her glass down and pulling her leg from the table. "Is there something bothering you?"

"Since when do you give a shit?" he spat, keeping his body aimed towards the other Inquisitors conversing with each other at various tables.

Her deep giggle was spine shivering as she leaned in, propping her head up with her gloved hand under her chin. "You're a very intriguing man…I will admit."

Xur looked over to her glass, and noticed it was empty…and that she'd filled it with Rancor's Gut, a liquor that was meant for aliens much larger than her to consume.

"Ah, I see…you're tipsy, Sister," he noticed.

"Perhaps a little," she admitted, still eyeing him closely. "But I rarely allow it to get out of control, and I assure you, I am being sincere."

"So, you're a truth drunk?" he figured, deciding to bite and turn her way. "You start showing your true colors when you drink."

Trilla winked at that. "Right again, Brother."

With her this close, he wanted to stoop in and kiss her with a fervor he could not control, but he knew that was _exactly_ what she wanted. She was baiting him…and she was damn good at it too.

"Do you trust me now?" she asked.

Xur snorted. "I don't think I'll ever _trust_ you. Work with you maybe, but I'm not so sure about that strong T word."

She smacked her lips together in condescension. "_Awww_, and here I thought we were getting somewhere."

"_We?_" he narrowed his eyes.

Her smirk slowly manifested on one side of her lips. "I'm not blind…Brother."

Xur decided to tease her a bit, leaning in for a moment, only to tap her nose with one finger. "Neither am I, Sister."

Trilla looked as if she was going to grab him by the neck, but two massive hands slamming on their table drew their eyes away.

"Look at this…" a large, masked alien of an Inquisitor bore down on the two of them, the Ninth Sister just behind him. "Are you this harpy's new squeeze?"

Xur wasn't sure how to react, and Trilla only seemed to look away with disinterest, leaving him to only scratch the back of his head. "Who's this asshole?"

"I don't even remember," Trilla shrugged. "Ninth Brother? Not sure…don't much care."

He pointed his large finger towards Xur's head. "Listen here, you little twat, and you might learn something. If you believe for a second that his bitch cares, that's right when you'll be sold out and left for dead under the rotting sun."

"He's speaking from experience," Trilla giggled.

"Damn right I am," he growled, marching towards her as she refused to look his way. "I've been waiting _months_ to get another crack at this little skug, and when I'm done with her, you won't even know whose body it once belonged to."

Xur felt an internal rage begin to build at the imagination of that sight.

"You're not even worth a moment of my time," Trilla sighed. "Much less the breath I would have to exert disposing of you properly this time."

The Ninth Brother bore upon her, and she still did not look his way. "You're going to die _slowly_, honey-tits…and I'm going to make your next victim here watch. I'm sure down the road he'll thank me afterwards."

Involuntarily, Xur's fist clenched.

"Run along, little man," Trilla rolled her eyes. "I have more important matters to attend to."

"You _bitch_," he spat, and laid his hands on her shoulders.

Xur's chair was flung aside as he was up on his feet and lunged forward, grasping ahold of the larger man's neck and then proceeded to bash his head atop the durasteel table repeatedly. His anger spiked to a fever pitch, and with it his strength only multiplied with each hit. Soon, blue blood began to splatter as he continued his savage attack, cracking his mask open until he finally fell limp. With a huff, he pushed the body aside and let the leaking corpse display his shattered skull to the rest of them.

His eyes yellow, and Trilla's attention finally gained, he let out a quick exhale. "Anyone else?"

The Ninth Sister, who had stood from behind, made no movement, her smile only growing. With a gesture, Xur requested the drink in her hand, and when she handed it to him, he downed its contents and let the glass shatter atop the man's body. Sniffing his nose clear of any build up, he sat back down in his seat, never minding the blue splatter that now sullied their table.

Once the other Inquisitors turned their attention away, Trilla smiled. "You _are_ in love with me."

Xur gave her an admonishing look. "Don't go there."

She chuckled, reclaiming her glass and sharing a ghost toast. "No promises."


	6. Find Your Destiny

**CHAPTER 4**

Find Your Destiny

"Old age should burn and rave at close of day."

**Naboo, 14 BBY**

**Enforcement Precinct**

Elias Kelham was not happy.

After five years of prosperous business endeavors under the rule of the Empire, as well as having just about every Imperial authority in Theed in his pocket, he was suddenly strapped to a chair in the exact precinct he owned.

"Get me out of these restraints," he protested to no one in the room, but knew the camera would pick it up. "Real funny you backstabbers have me locked up like this."

The door slid open, and in walked two black-dressed humanoids with their faces covered by interestingly shaped helmets. His eyes narrowed in confusion. "Who the hell are you two clowns?"

Neither of them said anything. The male positioned himself directly in front of him, while the caped female took a cross-armed stance beside him.

"We have reason to believe you're supporting _insurgents_, Elias Kelham," the woman spoke first, her voice heavily augmented. "You're going to tell us who."

"The only person _I'm_ talking to is my advocate," Elias stated with finality. Who the hell were these circus performers?

"Here's how it works," the male spoke in front of him. "We ask a question; you answer a question. You speak when you're spoken-,"

"Who the fuck do you think-," he interrupted, only to see the male swipe his hand down, followed by a hard punch to his temple from the female.

"Mr. Kelham, I don't believe you were paying attention," the male continued to elaborate.

"Nice, honey tits," Elias chuckled. "You just handed me your job. Hit me again and I'll take your money too."

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you," the male warned. "She tends to get a bit crazy sometimes, _especially_ when little shits like you call her _that_."

Elias smiled to himself. Whoever these bastards were, they would be paying for this _tenfold_. "What are you, her little bitch?" he then turned back to the woman. "What sweetheart? You gonna bore me into confessing? You ain't shit. Come on, hit me. I dare-,"

"Works for me," she said, and then punched him again, this time drawing blood and threatening to break his nose.

_Now_ he was pissed.

"Do you know what I'll do to you when I get out of here?" he threatened.

She seemed completely unfazed. "Keep it up, little man. You'll leave here in a bag."

"Go to hell!" he spat.

Fully expecting her to attack again, Elias watched them both step away, conversing with each other quietly, which just felt like a waste of his time. "Are we done here, because I got people to see." he stated, and they both turned back his way. "Like the guy whose gonna sue your ass for assault."

The woman stepped forward, and he instinctively reared back, but the man held out his arm in front of her. "You think she's the bad cop and I'm the good cop?" he asked, crossing his arms. "We're _both_ the good cop. The bad cop is outside Elias, waiting to hear your decision."

He paused. _That_ didn't sound like something he could walk out of.

"That a fact?" he asked.

The male leaned into the female. "There's a trauma center near here right?"

She shrugged. "I heard it's not always fully staffed. Not since the Empire started taking control of all-,"

"Look, you fucking idiots, I don't support insurgents, and even if I did _accidently_, I would've reported-,"

The door opened. "Who are you two, get away from my client!"

About damn time he showed up. His human advocate looked at his two masked interrogators, obviously livid, as he should be. "You two are going to be buried in so much litigation and red tape, it's not even funny. Who are you anyway? More secret police?"

The male crossed his arms. "I'm the Second Brother, and this is the Second Sister. We're Imperial Inquisitors, which means we can do whatever we want."

"Inquis-," the advocate began.

"So you can turn around and get the hell out."

"This is-,"

"Perfectly legal. Yes, it is. Close the door behind you."

The advocate turned to Elias. "I'll contest this Elias, I'll take it _all_ the way to the Emperor himself."

"Yeah well, I killed Xur Eon, so," the Second Brother shrugged. "_Good luck with that_."

"Sirs," a black and red armored trooper called from the door. "We've got something you should see."

The Inquisitors looked to each other, and then reluctantly began to walk out.

"Thanks for the information Mr. Kelham," the Second Sister sneered. "I'm sure you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Better than you will, you _bitch!_ When I get my comm-link back I'm gonna-,"

"Elias, as your legal advocate, I advise you to shut the hell up."

"Where were you?"

"Held up in _traffic_."

* * *

"I told you these damn Naboo are slippery little bastards. They've always got their advocates right behind them any time trouble walks up," Xur explained as he and Trilla ascended the loading ramp into the imperial shuttle, its engines _whirring_ for takeoff.

"I should've broken his fingers from the start," Trilla suggested. "He would've squealed his confession then and there."

The landing ramp shut and Xur shook his head. "No, he was telling the truth. Men like him don't risk their necks for allies, no matter _who_ they are. If you started doing _that_, he would've said _anything_ to get you to stop."

"You say that like it matters if he's truly guilty or not."

Xur stopped himself from revolting in disgust. "Yeah I'd say it fucking matters. What good is a scapegoat when he knows nothing about the organization we're trying uproot?"

"I've told you this before, Brother," Trilla insisted with a pointed finger. "You tell your superiors what they want to hear. Nothing else matters."

The zabrak crossed his arms and sighed. "Right, right but that's not efficient, I mean look at-,"

"_Nothing else matters_," she reiterated, and then left him, heading up to the cockpit.

He smiled to himself as she left. He'd be exploiting the _shit_ out of that once he got himself out of here.

Once she was out of earshot, one of the Purge Troopers removed his helmet as he strapped himself in. "Didn't go as planned, eh kid?" he asked.

"No," Xur sighed, taking the seat next to him and removing his own helmet, ruffling the short black hair that he hadn't bothered to shave. "Not this time LC," which was an acronym for Lieutenant Commander. "You know how the Sister is."

The trooper was a middle-aged male, rather large, but still fit for his frame. His face was battle-hardened but also inviting, his beard beginning to grey.

"Afraid you know I can't comment on that," he grunted, pulling up his modified DC-15A blaster rifle, wiping off dirt with his glove. "Happen to like being alive."

Xur chuckled. "I already promised I'd back you up, Blaze."

"Oh, I remember," he huffed, working on a spot where grime had built up. "Still, I like to keep my working relationships positive, regardless of how I feel. I've found that keeping it professional in this Empire actually is a good way to stay alive."

"You two aren't planning insubordination without me, right?" another trooper asked, this one looking more like an ARC Trooper, just with Purge armor. _He_ was certainly a Jango Fett clone, one of the last still in service, Xur figured.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Xur greeted as the shuttle began to rumble, leaving the surface. "You're my go-to for disaster and hopeless situations, remember?"

"Just making sure you didn't forget," he said, taking the seat next to Xur, his DC-17 holsters rubbing up against him in the tight space. "I'd hate to feel left out."

All three strapped in, the shuttle left Naboo's atmosphere and out of orbit, reducing the rumbling to the mere shimmer of the engines.

"Any idea where we're off to next Boss?" the Commander asked.

Xur shrugged. "Hell if I know, Archer. I'm not calling the shots for this one," he said, just as the cockpit door opened. "That responsibility falls to our illustrious Second Sister."

"I need a word with you, _now_," Trilla commanded, her mask still covering her face as she strolled out of the cockpit. "Commander Archer, get me everything you have on the planet Bracca."

"Yes ma'am," Archer nodded, while Xur stood.

"I could tell you everything you need to know. Bracca's a scrap heap with nothing more than durasteel-devouring monsters and unfavorable weather," Xur explained, recalling from an earlier encounter he had during the Clone Wars. "All we'll find is-,"

"I don't much care about your supposed expertise," Trilla almost spat, ushering him to the small side room of the shuttle, leaving Blaze and Archer behind. Once the door was shut, and they were alone, Trilla removed her helmet.

"There is a Jedi on Bracca," Trilla revealed, setting her helmet down on an outlet desk. "One of our probes spotted a scrap worker saving his friend from a fall using the Force."

Xur didn't react. In his six months undercover, they hadn't run in to a single Jedi, to his luck, making it easy for him to complete crap assignments without doing something he'd truly regret. There were a _few _things he wished he hadn't been forced to do, but he knew the necessity. Bringing in a Jedi was another matter. Not after what he had seen.

Ironically enough, it was watching Trilla that made him pause. He remembered her from before, such a perfect and unique creature, the light and potential _burning_ within her. She cared so much about helping those in need, even at the expense of herself…and the Empire had ruined her.

_That's_ what they did; take perfect creations of nature and transform them into soulless monsters for their own uses. He'd seen it within all the inquisitors, save the select few that had joined on their own accord, Jedi whose wills had been broken, their souls corrupted and drained of the life that once flourished; psychopaths programmed to hunt and kill on command, and _relish_ in it.

Xur still held out hope for Trilla, despite what she was, but he still had no idea where her hatred stemmed from, the one thing she was never willing to share. If only he could get her to focus and _redirect_ her hatred to those that had destroyed her…

No. Hatred to another side might get her to join him, but it wouldn't bring _Trilla_ back. Xur hadn't felt more helpless every time it crossed his mind. To let go of hatred was to let go of power…power that Xur himself had relied on since the Empire had replaced the Republic.

Was he really any different from her?

He didn't have a good answer. All he knew was that he wouldn't let another Jedi become an inquisitor.

"You sure? You know those probes can be faulty," Xur downplayed. "And it could've been the wind."

Trilla considered his words but shook her head. "No. I can _feel_ it. There's a Jedi down there and _I'm_ going to find him."

"Hey, _hey_," Xur pointed. "You'd better play nice."

"It's almost as if you don't trust me, Brother."

"It's _exactly_ as if I don't trust you, Sister."

Trilla condescendingly smacked her lips together and caressed his face with the back of her hand. "_Awww_. And here I thought we were just beginning to get along."

Xur grabbed her wrist and forcefully removed her hand from his face. "As I said before, that entirely depends on _you_."

"_So serious_," she mocked. "I almost believed you that time."

She then crept up close to him, running her hands over his chest, whilst bringing her lips to his ear. "Stop pretending to be someone you're not," she whispered. "I know how you feel about me. I can _sense_ it with every breath you take. Every eye you lie upon me is filled with purpose…ambition," she then placed her lips close to his own. "_Lust_."

"Enough," Xur almost snapped, nearly crushing her in his grip as he grabbed ahold of both her shoulders. That wasn't the first time she had tried to get him to give in to his emotions, but that would only jeopardize his identity. He couldn't, no matter how much he…

No matter how right she really was.

"I'll stop pretending, once you stop pretending to actually care," Xur offered. "Deal?"

Trilla didn't bother pretending to look hurt, caught in her act virtually red-handed.

"No promises."

* * *

**Bracca, 14 BBY**

**Passenger Train**

_Trust only the Force._

Cal Kestis awoke from his reverie, stunned awake by the sudden reappearance of his former late master, Jaro Tapal. It had been half a decade since he had last laid eyes on that man's face, the man who had trained and cared for him while the galaxy was at war.

The man who had been gunned down by his own troops, and he was helpless to stop them.

Since, he had been hiding out where his escape pod had landed him, working as a scrapper of the old warships he used to serve on…warships the Empire had no use for any longer. He was beginning to consider himself good at avoiding the eyes of the Empire, since he had evaded them this long. There were only stories of what happened to his fellow survivors, none of them good, all resulting in their eventual demise.

And now he may be joining them.

Today, he had used the Force, not out of pleasure, but of necessity. His rather large, middle-aged friend Prauf would've met a truly unfortunate fate if he hadn't, falling into the mouth of the creature that swallowed whole starships. Despite the danger, he regretted nothing.

Now the train was coming to a halt, well before their destination.

Cal looked around the car, filled with other scrappers of various races, their ponchos filthy and soaked from the neigh-constant downpour. Prauf, beside him, was holding up rather well, while the same could not be said for Cal.

"Train's stopped," Cal noted, eyes growing wider.

"Yeah," Prauf huffed, rising to his massive feet. "Something's going on."

The doors at the end of the car opened, and out came two stormtroopers, blasters held across their chests. Cal instinctively looked away, although realized that would only make him more suspicious.

"Everybody up, identification ready," one of them instructed, and everyone present complied. As the other situated himself at the other end of the car, the same ordered again. "Move out and line up."

"Probably just another contraband inspection," Prauf downplayed, and Cal hoped and prayed that was the case.

The exit door opened, and the other scrappers made good to comply, exiting into the rain outside. As Cal followed the line in toe, he was greeted by two black and red armored stormtroopers on each side of the door, unlike anything he had ever seen before. In front of him was another, this one much more heavily dressed than the others.

"In line," he pointed, roughly guiding every passerby, his voice exactly a match to that of the clones during the war. Cal complied, finding his spot next to Prauf, just as a TIE Interceptor flew overhead.

Then he saw another man, this one not a stormtrooper, masked…and with a _lightsaber_ on his back.

This was _not_ a contraband inspection.

"Listen up, ladies and gentlemen. The faster you comply, the faster we can all get out of this shitty weather," he grumbled, arms crossed as he paced, head turning to each worker. "Trust me, I don't want to," his gaze stopped on Cal, and he let his eyes wander away.

* * *

"-be here either," Xur finished, and he already knew who the Jedi was. Damn Trilla for being right.

_Cal fucking Kestis._

The last time he saw the kid was when he was thirteen, about midway through Operation Countdown when he and Master Windu met up with Jaro Tapal for "clean-up". The simple mission turned into a bloodbath, resulting in Xur saving Cal just before a Separatist gunship vaporized the teenager on an overlook. The whole thing was a mess.

_This_ was infinitely worse. Trilla _would_ discover him, without a shadow of a doubt, in fact she probably already knew he was here. Xur wanted to help the kid but doing so without blowing his cover was going to be a tricky maneuver.

Trilla's interceptor had landed, along with the Ninth Sister's attack craft, certainly an unwanted guest that had come to join in on the glory of capturing another Jedi. The hulking inquisitor descended the loading ramp, her red visor covering her missing eye.

"Who the hell invited you?" Xur asked, greeting her.

"I was in town," she sneered. "Besides, the man upstairs didn't think you two could get the job done."

Xur scoffed. "_Bullshit._"

She shrugged, pushing past him. "Doesn't much matter now, does it? Second Sister still pushing you around?"

"She certainly tries," Xur huffed under his breath as Trilla approached Commander Archer, standing before the scrappers in line. The two of them split off, Xur taking a position at the end of the line, next to Blaze, who held his assault blaster across his chest.

"Is this all of them?" Trilla asked Archer.

"This is all of them, Second Sister," he confirmed, and Xur heard Trilla let out a sigh of annoyance. The zabrak's eyes traced back to Cal, who had his eyes to the ground.

_Hang in there kid._

* * *

"We seek a dangerous fugitive," the masked woman, who Cal had heard as the Second Sister, began. "This is no common anarchist…but a devotee of the _treasonous_ Jedi Order."

_Shit._

His eyes panned up, and the other man was still looking at him, which only spiked his flaring nerves even more. The dowutin pacing behind the Second Sister wasn't helping alleviate his stress either. He had gone so long without detection…how could they have known so quickly?

"Failure to turn over this traitor will result in a charge of sedition," she continued, and he kept quiet. "Turn yourself in, or everyone present will face summary _execution_."

Blasters pointed and clicked from each trooper, followed by gasps of fear from each of the workers, no knowledge of what was happening, or who these menaces were trying to find. Cal couldn't let them die, but that would certainly result in his own demise…or _worse_.

Innocents…dying for him…no, he couldn't.

"I think," Prauf stammered, stepping forward in line. "I think it's time someone came forward."

Cal reached out, trying to stop him without revealing who he was, only the fear present on his face, and hoped it would be enough for his friend to back down.

It was to no avail. "I uh," Prauf began, trying to find the words. "I've been working on this heap a long time," he said, looking back to Cal. "Way before the war."

Cal reached behind his back, something he promised himself to only do as a last resort.

"We refitted and rebuilt ships," Prauf continued, turning to the Second Sister. "Best in the galaxy. Then came the Empire…and engineers…became scrappers."

Cal spotted movement from the masked man…his head slightly shaking, eyes fixed on Cal…and his…

His right hand at his side, making gestures…gestures he could read.

_Run._

"The workers…just started getting worked."

_Dumbass._

Cal looked up to his friend, his hand wrapped around durasteel. "Prauf," he urged. Why this man was telling him to run was beyond him…but he was starting to agree.

"But we all know the truth," Prauf said, pointing to the Second Sister. "We're all just…just too afraid to say it. To the Empire, we're all just _expendable_."

"Yes," the Second Sister agreed, stepping forward. "You are," before impaling him through the chest with her saber, ending his life in one, shocked gasp.

"_No!_" Cal screamed, and ignited his blue blade, slashing at the Second Sister only to see it stopped by a crossing crimson one, from the man who had watched him. Through two parries, Cal was far too rusty to compete, and the man broke his guard in a flash, sending him over the edge of the cliff with a powerful Force push.

He tumbled through the air, screaming as the dank air filled his lungs before crashing through the roof of a moving train car on the track below.

* * *

_Good luck kid._

Xur watched Cal tumble over the edge, knowing there was a track there to catch him, and if he really was still a Jedi, he'd survive.

"Fire!" Trilla growled, her rage bristling in the Force like an erupting cauldron, and the purge troopers executed each of the workers without question. "I had this _under control!_" she yelled, grabbing ahold of Xur's shoulder and dragging him towards her.

"You let him draw his saber, I don't call that _under control_," Xur challenged, batting her hand from him. "I'm tired of your games! If you didn't spend so much time giving a speech, we would've had him!"

Trilla paused, and then reared her helmeted head forward. "You say that as if you _knew_ who the Jedi was!"

"And you _didn't?!_"

"Shut the _fuck_ up, both of you!" the Ninth Sister raged. "The Jedi is escaping!"

Trilla reacted quickly, her arms flailing about as she gave orders. "Commander, I want _every_ spaceport locked down. Find out _where _that train is going and _stop_ it. All available troopers are to be mobilized. Go!"

Archer nodded in compliance and began to relay her directives to every troop under his command, while the Ninth Sister turned back to her attack craft.

"I'll tail the train," she said, before disappearing up the ramp.

Once all the troops were moving, Trilla turned to Xur with a pointed finger. "_You_," she seethed. "I will _deal_ with you later."

Xur goaded her as she stormed off to her TIE Interceptor. "_Ooooohh_ that's _scary!_ Go to hell!"

She said nothing as she gunned the engines and took off, leaving just him, Archer and Blaze in the downpour.

The zabrak was truthfully seething inside. This situation was an absolute disaster, and he had no idea how he was going to get Cal Kestis out of it alive. Deep down, he knew killing Trilla would be the most efficient solution, but he wasn't sure he'd live long after doing that, not with now heavy the Imperial presence was at the moment.

No matter how angry he was with her, no matter how evil she had become, he knew he could never look into her eyes and cut her down. It just wasn't possible.

Xur had to find a way for both Cal and Trilla to survive this day.

"Archer, Blaze, in the speeder with me," he called, directing them to the four-seater he had taken in. "We need to catch up."

* * *

Cal Kestis didn't make it far, and Trilla made sure of that. Despite the long chase alongside the train system, her soldiers were able to stop the train while the Ninth Sister blew it from the tracks, sending Kestis falling to his death in the canyon below.

Only if an unexpected ship had not saved him.

She didn't care about the stormtroopers the Jedi was carving to pieces on his way, but this nuisance was infuriating. Despite having complete control of an entire planet, there was one irregularity she simply hadn't accounted for…not to mention the _incompetence_ of the Second Brother that lead them here in the first place.

But now she had him right where she wanted.

Setting down her TIE Interceptor on the overlook where Cal had landed from a long fall, Trilla climbed out of the cockpit with haste, but made sure to project an intimidating ease to her approach. It had been awhile since she had faced a Jedi, and to break them before engagement was the most efficient tactic.

Yet the Second Brother's _idiocy_ was still plaguing her.

She needed to stifle herself.

Floating down to the platform where Cal was waiting for her, she landed with a thud. "Going somewhere?" she asked, igniting her crimson blade.

The ginger-haired Jedi was filthy, and if it weren't for the rain, she could imagine it being much worse. Cuts riddled his open areas of his wardrobe, burns on his skin from slides…to the point she had to stop herself from giggling at his current state.

And yet he ignited his blue blade, his will and resolve exactly that of a Jedi.

"I recognize that stance," Trilla noted, slowly pacing towards him. It was basic, but not entirely common either. "Perhaps you've had some training after all?"

Cal said nothing, and Trilla could practically _smell_ his fear.

"Who was your master? Someone I've _killed_ perhaps?" Trilla goaded him, but still no response. "What Jedi gave their life, so that _you_ might live?"

Trilla stepped forward and attacked, her slash parried rather easily by the young Jedi, but no retaliation came. She took that chance to press on, all blocked until they both fell into a saber lock, where her strength won out, dropping him onto his rear. She swung downwards, but he was able to raise one arm and lock blades with her again.

"Give up, Jedi," she said, bearing down on his defense with her might. He grunted, holding it at bay until he broke the lock and rolled over, somersaulting to his feet and falling back into that same stance.

He was frustratingly better than she expected…but he didn't need to know that.

"You're a quick one," she chuckled to herself. "But not quick enough," she accelerated to a blinding speed and swung, forcing Cal to backpedal just to keep her at bay, before Trilla landed a kick to his chest. He grunted and rolled away, trying to regain his breath before falling into yet another saber lock.

Cal's teeth were grit, and Trilla could feel her strength winning out, but the interloping ship appeared from below, its lights illuminating them both. Its forward cannons fired, and the beams exploded, knocking them both away from each other. Trilla landed in a fit of smoke, her mask filtering it out before it infected her lungs. Knowing Cal was probably worse off than she, Trilla rose to her feet and stepped out of the smoke to see him climbing aboard the spacecraft, helped along by…

_Cere Junda._

Their gazes met for a moment, and there were no words that could accurately depict the feeling she experienced. To see her old master, the woman who had _betrayed_ her, the woman responsible for her own destitution…she tasted _blood._

Once Cal was on board, Cere drew her blaster and fired upon Trilla, who saw each blast coming with ease, sidestepping or deflecting each. She felt like a savage predator advancing upon wounded prey.

"Captain!" Cere shouted, punching the ramp closed.

The ship began to pull away, and Trilla leapt, trying to contort her body in a manner to fit into the closing ramp, but to no avail. Frustrated, she slashed across the door as it closed and grabbed ahold of a bolted grate, her fingers screaming in pain as she dangled.

She'd experienced _far_ worse.

Trilla clambered her way atop the ship, using Force stick to keep her stable as it began to pick up speed. With no regard for her own safety, she jumped to the front a dropped down at the cockpit blast shield, seeing Cere and Cal look on in shock at her sudden appearance and reached out with the Force, wrestling the flight stick from the grip of the lateron pilot. Turning her wrist, the ship spun out of control, trying to force it down.

Cal Kestis wouldn't escape her, and neither would Cere.

Just when she thought she might be able to bring it down, Cere stepped forward and pulled on the stick in the opposite direction, and the resulting force was far beyond what was required to rip her hands free of the ship. With a gasp, Trilla fell, watching as the ship shot off into hyperspace in atmosphere.

Turning back towards the surface in free-fall, she spotted an approaching speeder-car, and the Second Brother waving to her from below. In turn, she began to slow her descent.

The hyperspace discharge ripped through the air, passing through her, and subsequently rendered the speeder-car inoperable. As she landed inside, she could already feel it losing altitude, and the Second Brother tried pulling it back to the ledge where she had dueled with Cal Kestis.

"Shit hang on!" he shouted.

"Reboot the system!" Archer suggested.

"Everything's fried! Hit us with some kind of EMP!"

The speeder-car came up parallel to the ledge. "Jump, now!" he yelled, and she, the Second Brother, Archer and Blaze leapt from the car. The Second Brother made the jump, being the closest, but Trilla and the others had to fire ascension cables above. Archer's landed easily, but both her hook and Blaze's latched onto a rusted pipe that was already creaking under their weight.

As she activated the ascension mechanism, the piping bent, and she could see it beginning to warp, tearing at its cracks. If they didn't lose weight, it would certainly break.

Trilla looked down to Blaze, who was slowly making his way up, but the creaking was making him wary. She looked back up to the pipe, which was only getting worse.

Her crimson blade ignited, and she severed his line.

"_No!_" the Second Brother shouted and reached out, leaving a _boom_ in the force as he grabbed ahold of Blaze before he fell to his death. Trilla climbed over the side, and the Second Brother grunted and wheezed as he slowly pulled Blaze up and to safety, relinquishing his hold with a gasp.

"What the hell happened?" she asked as the Second Brother stood.

It sounded like a bell rang.

Her mask's carbon-based material cracked where he punched her helmet with force-enhanced strength, popping off her face in a flash. The strike was so powerful it lifted her off her feet and she landed on her side, her ears ringing from the hit.

"Sir, _no!_" she heard, and she looked up to see both Archer and Blaze holding him back from her, his rage tearing the Force apart. "Stop!"

"You fucking _bitch!_ If I ever catch you doing that again, I'll fucking kill you!" he cursed, leaning forward, but staying behind their arms.

Trilla didn't rub her face, now exposed to the pouring rain. Instead, she smiled. Despite everything that had gone wrong here, she at least had gained _something_.

Now she knew what got under his skin. _At last._

* * *

**I've been imagining that scene for some time now, so it's good to finally get it out.**

**Also, I want to say that I won't be describing Fallen Order scenes unless I change something, so most of Cal's journey won't be directly covered (aside from interaction scenes). Instead, because Trilla is the deuteragonist, I will mostly be describing it through her perspective, which I think will be pretty interesting (and keep the story from getting dull). Besides, Cal's journey is up to your own interpretation and gameplay!**

**If you've enjoyed so far, please leave a review! I'd like to know what you all think. As far as requests go, I ask that you make more story-episode related ones (like specific chapter ideas). I already know how this will end (more or less), so that isn't up for debate, but how we get there is still up in the air! If you want to see more Cal Kestis, I'll try to come up with original adventures for him, so it's something new.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**And yes, that first scene was a direct nod to Mass Effect 2.**


	7. Be Her Quarry

**CHAPTER 5**

Be Her Quarry

"It is a far greater victory to make one see through your eyes than to close theirs forever."

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious**

Xur sat in the empty training dojo, his back against the wall and hilt in hand, while his mind wandered elsewhere. Never before had he been so infuriated with another person, so much as to strike them with such anger that it nearly killed them. He had seen Trilla's mask-less face after he had snapped, the look of a woman who had found what she was looking for; a chink in his armor that she could exploit.

He'd have to protect _all_ of his men from now on…or Trilla might receive the death she is goading him to give her.

"I wonder how Cal Kestis will scream once we have him," the Third Sister mused, her helmet still covering her face as she sat across from him. "I've never heard-,"

"Hey, _hey_ you better not start having one of your sadist lunatic moments," Xur pointed, looking up. "Otherwise the Grand Inquisitor is going to wonder why he spent so much time training you just to find out you died after I chucked you into that fucking lava pit."

The Seventh Sister laughed, who was sitting beside her. "That was a good one."

"Do I sound like I'm joking?" Xur snapped. "I didn't ask either of you to sit here, so either shut the fuck up or get lost."

The both chuckled like schoolgirls this time.

Xur blinked behind his helmet, frozen for a moment. "Did either of you hear what I just said?"

The Third Sister was covering the area where her mouth would be. "It's just funny. Second Sister knows how to break her partners down, and it looks like you're no different."

"You know," Seventh Sister leaned in, brining her voice down. "They say she killed the Seventh Brother…who died in an 'accident' during one of their hunts a year back."

"Yeah, killed in a trash compactor. It was reported that he fell on his own, but everyone _knows_ she pushed him in," Third Sister recounted.

"If you're trying to make me want to kill her more than I already do, you're wasting your time," Xur said, exaggerating just to try to get them to leave him alone. "She tries killing one of my men again, and I'll dice her up so bad you won't be able to find the body."

Third Sister clapped and bounced with excitement. "_Oooooo ooooo!_ Please take a holovid! I want to see!"

This was all part of the real him coming out. The men under his command were always his foremost concern, and each dead was his responsibility. He took it upon himself to be sure as many got home alive as possible, especially since he had such a tendency growing close to those he commanded.

It only made Order 66 for him that much worse.

"You're different than before," Seventh Sister noticed. "She must've done a number on you all this time."

Xur scoffed. "You could say that."

It was mostly the emotional demand of it all. He hadn't expelled his rage in six months, and it was beginning to tear down his inhibitions. While his natural ability kept it from transforming him entirely, it was still having adverse effects on his behavior. Dark thoughts still found their way into his consciousness, which was partly why he had reacted in such a violent way on Bracca. He could've never imagined striking Trilla before now, and it just showed how much his restraint had eroded.

He wondered, did it really matter if corruption could affect him or not, or did evil find a way regardless? In honesty, he'd bet big credits on the latter.

Then how was he different from any other sorry bastard in this place?

If he was beginning to lose it, then time was running out for his mission, and truthfully, Trilla wasn't getting any better with him at her side. If anything, he was _feeding_ the Dark Side within her.

He needed to get out. He needed to be Xur Eon again.

But first, he needed to find Cal Kestis…and Trilla was his ticket to him. For the sake of his mission, and his _own_, he'd need to put up with her for a little longer.

Xur rose to his feet. "Thanks for the chat, ladies. It's been _enlightening_."

"Don't forget my holovid!" Third Sister reminded him as he walked to the dojo exit.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

* * *

**Bracca, 19 BBY**

**Designated War Zone**

"Cal look out!"  
The droid gunship screamed across the sky as it unloaded its payload atop the outlook, and Cal dove off the side before he was vaporized. Wind rushed past his ears as he had nowhere to land, his eyes blinded by the smoke that surrounded him. He screamed; lungs being filled with the fumes of the detonated charges. In this moment, the Force felt as if it had finally abandoned him.

He was going to die.

Cal stopped falling, his body suspended in the air by an unknown force, and he felt as if he was being dragged upwards. A hand grabbed his arm, and his feet hit rocky land. He coughed, and as he rubbed his eyes clear, he heard the tested breathing of another sitting beside him.

"You alright, kid?" he asked, and he recognized the voice of Jedi Knight Xur Eon, the famed hero of the Clone Wars and the Jedi.

Cal looked up, his sight returning to him in a blur, and he saw the red-skinned zabrak, dirt covering his face and clothing. "That was a close one," he said.

The ginger-haired padawan smiled. "That was you wasn't it? Y-you pulled me back up."

"Yeah, well, Master Tapal'd murder me if I didn't," he huffed, gripping the young Jedi's shoulder. "Remember what I told you: if you're working with me, I always got your back. No matter what. Us Jedi, young ones especially, we got to stick together."

* * *

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Aft Compartment**

_No matter what._

Cal's eyes fluttered open; his ears greeted to the _whirr_ of the _Mantis_ engine as it traveled through hyperspace. His eyes felt as if they had been glued shut, and he had just pried them apart.

He hadn't had a full night's rest in weeks.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself to relax. Images of his time as a Jedi always returned, whether it be when he first constructed his lightsaber, or when the clones turned on him during Order 66. It didn't matter. Everything was like a plague on his focus, and he had never felt helpless against it.

Then there was that woman. Cere had called her the Second Sister, an Imperial inquisitor specifically trained to hunt Jedi survivors. Her augmented voice was like sandpaper against his spine, telling him that no matter how far he ran, she'd be right there waiting for him in the end.

And the _power_ she wielded. It was far beyond what he was now; a broken shell of a failed padawan, barely clinging to life on a scrapper's planet like Bracca. He'd survived once, but if he was a betting man, he'd bet against himself if he ran into her again.

But then there were the reveries of Xur Eon, the Jedi Knight who had saved him mere months before the Clone Wars ended. _Those_ didn't add up. He had looked up to him, yes, but the man had nothing to do with the current situation. Besides, everyone in the Empire knew he was _dead_.

The other inquisitor…that man…the gestures he used were the only few Xur had taught him in their short stint together. _Dumbass_ particularly was one he knew out of comedy, but how would the inquisitor know that?

Why try to help him at all?

Something was out of place here, and he knew the Force was trying to tell him that. There were things happening out of his line of sight, and he could sense it, but he didn't know what.

He needed advice.

Cere Junda, former Jedi Master, and now his fellow crewmate along with Greez Dritus, the little lateron pilot, was seated in the central area of the ship, not far from the holotable.

"Cal, you're awake," she noticed him approach. "Any luck this time?"

Cal shook his head and rubbed his eye. "Still more memories," he said, and then felt the little droid BD-1 hop onto his back, letting out a trill in binary. "Ha don't worry about me, buddy. I'll be fine."

The droid beeped with reluctance and hopped off his back once Cal took a seat next to Cere, standing between them on its two legs.

"Something bothering you?" she asked.

Cal wondered if he should even bring it up but felt the need for closure. "Did you know Xur Eon?"

Cere paused for a moment, looking somewhat baffled at his question. "Somewhat. Mostly stories. Why?"

"Well…I don't know how to explain it but…he keeps appearing in my memories. I only knew him for a short time, and I was hoping maybe you could tell me a bit more."

She leaned back and sighed. Cal could sense conflict within her as she delved into her past, which was not expected. "You remember my padawan Trilla? The one I told you about?"

Cal nodded.

"I guess, before she became my apprentice, they had a close relationship. They were friends as younglings, and…I could tell, especially early in our partnership that being apart from him was…difficult for her. She was always asking for information on him; whether he was still alive or not, and sometimes brought him up from time to time."

Cere then looked like she carried some regret and looked away. "Eventually I told her that…she had to let him go. Attachment was forbidden anyway, but she was becoming…_distracted_."

"How did she take that?" Cal asked.

Cere snorted. "About as well as you can imagine…but eventually she did come around and focus on her training. We didn't participate in many battles, mostly we were running scouting missions and escorts, sometimes training younglings…but I could still feel it eating at her deep down.

"I felt helpless against it. Even if I wanted to tell her something, I honestly couldn't. Xur Eon and Anakin Skywalker were spearheading the war effort, so most of their missions were classified anyway. All I knew was that he was in a constant state of battle, and that he had this uncommon ability to resist the corruptive energies of the Dark Side, so the Republic was utilizing that to its fullest."

"But you didn't agree with that," Cal deducted, and Cere nodded.

"No, but what I thought didn't matter. Master Mace Windu was an adamant proponent towards his use, and from what I heard, he was a brilliant warrior and commander, as if his troops almost idolized him."

Cal nodded in agreement. "I didn't notice it then, but when I look back at it, you could tell that his soldiers looked up to him; like they enjoyed being under his command."

"He certainly had a way with his troops," Cere admitted. "Towards the end of the war, Trilla and I had come under attack while we oversaw some younglings during a training mission. Separatist forces were advancing upon us, and Mace Windu and his troops rushed to the rescue, since he was the closest force in the sector…and, Eon was with him.

"Just before the droids advanced upon us, Xur discovered our hiding place, and while Master Windu lead a distraction, he helped us get away. I admired his daring…but he was impulsive and didn't shy away from needlessly involving the younglings. Truthfully, he was unlike any Jedi I'd ever met…probably because he wasn't _really_ a Jedi."

She scoffed in reverie. "Trilla was elated to see him, but he didn't return it with the same enthusiasm. He was so focused on making sure we got out, as well as staying in contact with his troops above, that he didn't pay her much mind. I could sense there was something he was hiding, as well…something he was embarrassed about," she faced Cal, sighing again. "All I know was that I didn't feel he was trustworthy."

"Sounds like Trilla did," Cal surmised, doing his best to also defend a man who saved his life.

"She was blinded by her emotions, I think," Cere figured, and then Cal watched her eyes gloss over, lost in a past event of some kind. "As maybe I was. Why do you ask about him?"

Now it was Cal's turn to reveal something. "Back on Bracca, the other inquisitor, the man. He tried to signal me through hand gestures. They were the same ones Xur had taught me when we met."

Cere's eyes widened. "Cal, that was the Second Brother. He _killed_ Xur Eon."

Cal was baffled. Now _nothing_ made sense. "But why would he try to help me? That doesn't make any sense."

"Inquisitors are competing with each other all the time, Cal. He could've been trying to lead you away just so he could take you out himself. These people _study_ their prey. He probably learned those gestures during his hunt for Eon."

Cal sighed, and wanted to argue more, but Greez called from the cockpit. "We're coming up on Zeffo. You two better grab some seat up here!"

Cere nodded and rose to her feet. "We'll discuss this more later. Just watch yourself Cal."

He tipped his head in acknowledgement. It'd have to be for later. Right now, he had a wookie and a tomb to find.

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious**

"Going somewhere?"

Xur had his hand over his shoulder and fingers wrapped around his hilt halfway through the stranger's statement, only to see it was just another inquisitor stalking in the shadows of the hall.

"What do you want? I got shit to do," Xur grumbled.

"I'd say _shovel_ would be the more operative word," the masked woman said, walking out of the shadows with her arms crossed. "I've been watching you. You're perhaps the most interesting mindless drone in this place."

Xur shivered but transferred it into a mental reaction. "Come again?"

She was slightly taller than him, which was rare, and also somewhat intimidating, but he didn't let that bother him as she paced around him, as if observing livestock for sale. "There's something _different_ about you. I see it in the way you walk, your stance, how you hold yourself compared to others. You leave your mark on every planet you touch," she then stopped in front of him. "Every _person_ you touch."

The zabrak was beginning to feel insecure about himself, and it only worsened the longer this woman looked his way. "Usually in a common conversation, two people exchange names first."

"You already know who I am," she replied. "And I already know who _you _are."

Xur tensed.

She backed away. "But we're both shrouded in our own veils of secrecy, and I believe, when the time is right, the truth will be revealed to us both."

He groaned in a defensive manner. "Can you please spare me the cryptic talk?"

"If you insist," she conceded. "I am the First Sister, and I see _much_ potential in you, Brother. I could teach you what I know; perhaps more than what you expected on this journey."

Xur shrugged. "Maybe some other time, lady. There's a Jedi on the loose."

She tipped her head. "The offer still stands. As a taste, I'll offer one piece of advice," she said, stepping forward and looking towards the door Xur was headed to. "_You_ are the gravity around which all her actions rotate. You exert a stronger influence than you know."

"Who? The Second Sister?" he asked.

She didn't react, just merely continued as her head angled back in his direction. "Be her foil, her _challenge_, and eventually she will see things _your way_."

Xur couldn't explain it, but he felt _drawn_ to this woman, like he was irreversibly locked in her orbit…and he had only just _met _her. Not to mention the fact that Xur was feeling more and more wary that she was aware he wasn't who he was portraying himself to be. It could be a trap, but he prided himself in having a knack for smelling those before they got him.

"I'll take it under consideration," Xur said.

She almost bowed on her way back into the shadows. "Don't keep me waiting."

The zabrak let the shivers run through him, and then quickly advanced to the door, trying to get somewhere that was out of the First Sister's sight. Last thing he needed was another murderous woman watching him.

Trilla was in the room, studying the holotable before her, projecting hundreds of planets around the room, some highlighted red, some blue. Xur was already walking through some projections as the door slid closed behind him. Her hand massaged her chin as she thought, her eyes darting to him for only a second before returning elsewhere.

It was a little awkward, to say the least.

"Find anything?" Xur asked, hoping professionalism would get her to spill.

She said nothing, and while he waited for the ice to thaw out, he removed his helmet. "I'd say I'm sorry, but _uh_…I'd be lying, _so_…," he began, pacing around the room. "Blaze said he doesn't take it personal-,"

"If any more words come out of your _cunt _mouth, I'm going to have to break every one of your fucking fingers," she seethed, looking directly at him, waiting for him to speak again.

_Be her foil, her challenge, and eventually she will see things your way._

Xur waved his hand is dismissal. "_You're_ one fucked up piece of shit, you know that? You know, here I am thinking maybe we got a little understanding going; maybe we can actually get some work done…and then you go and lose your fucking sanity again," he said, and Trilla looked as if she wanted to rip him in half, but he pressed it, stepping towards her. "I think you're just insecure…and deep-down part of you is still filled with _avarice_ at my killing of Xur Eon."

She roared and wrapped both her hands around his neck, pressing his back against the holotable. Her grip was plenty tight enough to cut off air from his lungs, and Xur grappled onto her forearms.

"I…_hate_ you!" she neigh-screamed, fully intent on ending his life then and there. Xur grunted and kicked at her knee, knocking her off balance just long enough for him to push off of her, freeing himself from her grip.

He coughed. "…come on Sister," he said, raising his fists. "Let's see what you got."

She grit her teeth and reached for her hilt, but Xur gestured and flung it across the room. "No, no," he huffed, throwing his own hilt away. "We're doing this old-fashioned."

He was greeted to a force push that knocked him off his feet, his back sliding along the ground, and before he could see clearly again, she was atop him, fists flying towards his head. Barely dodging her strikes, Xur grabbed ahold of her outstretched arm and used it as leverage to throw her off him.

"Is this how you react to the truth?" he asked, holding his fists out in front after scrambling back to his feet. "Your restraint is pathetic."

"Restraint is weakness," she retorted, swinging at his defense. "Restraint is _death_."

"Yeah? Who taught you that?"

She growled, frustrated that she couldn't land any solid blows. "_No one._ I learned it through pain…the _only_ way to learn!"

Xur stepped back to avoid a powerful hook. "So you failed, because you held yourself back?"

"No," she said, taking a step back to circle and wait for her moment. "I failed because I wasn't strong enough. After that, I vowed _never_ to be weak again…to never put my trust in those who have not shared my pain."

"This was because that someone who betrayed you," Xur deducted from earlier. "I noticed you bristle in the Force when Cal escaped, and not because of that fact…something there triggered a reverie," he picked, and he could feel her anger rising again. "Something from your past."

Xur himself already knew what it was, but he couldn't let her know that. He had to make her say it; to get it off her chest, and maybe she'd start listening to him.

"There was nothing…," she began.

"Liar!" Xur challenged, attacking while her guard was down momentarily, only to swipe air against her lightning-fast reflexes. "That someone who betrayed you was there, weren't they?"

She screamed and swung, faster than he could react, and her fist decked him square in the cheek, spit and blood flying from his mouth as it impacted. The Force granted him danger sense to block her second attack, but he stumbled to the ground, his senses blurred.

"The _bitch_ was there!" she shouted, wailing atop him with balled fists. "The _schemer_, my _betrayer_…my…,"

"Your master!" Xur answered, grabbing ahold of both her arms, looking her straight in the eye despite his throbbing pain in his jaw. "Cere Junda."

She paused, no longer struggling in his grip. "How do you know that?" she said in almost a whisper.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Trilla Suduri," he revealed. "I didn't join the Inquisitorious on a _dare_. I was _betrayed_, just like you were. My closest friend, my most trusted ally, murdered my mentor and left me to die. I was helpless, just as you were."

Trilla looked shaken, for the moment at least. "Cere…she told them where I was hiding…and they found me."

Xur's hands clenched around her wrists.

_Master Junda surrendered her location…and the Empire tortured Trilla. Not for information, not for any value…but because they could._

Metal creaked and groaned around him, and Trilla's eyes darted around as the noises only grew louder. Xur's emotions were exploding within him, but he had to keep them contained.

_The Empire tortured Trilla._

Loose dust began to float around the room, and the creaking grew even louder.

_Vader tortured Trilla._

_Anakin tortured Trilla._

"Brother-," Trilla said, and the creaking stopped, the dust dropping back to its resting place. Xur breathed and released her arms, allowing them to both rise to their feet.

"When you find anything, let me know," he said, before leaving her alone in the room.

Trilla watched him go, and in that moment, she knew the Second Brother was not who he portrayed himself to be.

* * *

**Short chapter, I know, but the next one is shaping up to be a LONG one, as well as perhaps one of the most exciting.**

**Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	8. The Revenant - Author's Cut

**Author's Cut – I extensively upgraded the fight between Xur and Trilla, as well as did some dialogue clean up between him and Cal. This is a very important chapter, and I've felt it's had some glaring flaws that needed addressing.**

**CHAPTER 6**

The Revenant

"Though wise men at their end know dark is right, because their words have forked no lightning."

_ Xur's eyes opened, greeted with slow-blowing smoke covering all of his surroundings. He was kneeling in a meditative posture, feeling every living thing around him. This place…its balance was perfect. Not too much light, not too much dark…everything he had ever dreamed of achieving for himself._

_ Peace, at last._

_ With a rested sigh, he rose to his feet. Here, he felt safe and in control, no one here to sneak in the shadows and take his life._

_ "It's beautiful here, isn't it?" a voice beside him said…Trilla's voice. She was dressed in her Jedi robes, and not a speck of corruption blemished her perfect image. Before him was the pure manifestation of beauty and perfection._

_ "T-Trilla," he stammered, reaching out to caress her face with his hand. "You're here."_

_ She smiled, her eyes closing with his touch. "I've always been with you," she said, pulling him close. "You remember what you said to me? Before you left?"_

_ Xur nodded, wrapping his arms around her. "No matter what may happen to us, I will always care for you. I knew I could-," his chest felt as if it was on fire, and a crimson glow shined between the two of them. He looked down, and in Trilla's hand was her circular hilt, the blade stabbed through his heart._

_ The zabrak collapsed, and Trilla looked down upon him, not with sadistic glee, but with pity._

_ Through waves of pain, Xur gasped, "Trilla…why?"_

_ She said nothing, until an unstable crimson beam protruded from her breast, and her eyes went blank; soulless and dead._

_ "No!" Xur screamed as her body faded away, and through her stepped in a masked man, his armor majestic and menacing. The power he possessed virtually unmatched._

_ "Finish what I started, or her fate is sealed!"_

_ Xur screamed in rage._

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious**

"These visions you have," the First Sister enquired, facing away from where Xur knelt in a meditative state. "Describe them to me."

Xur's eyes opened, his emotions ravaged from experiencing the traumatic image once again. "They are of pain…betrayal," he began, and then looked up towards the First Sister, who turned to face him, her arms behind her back. "Death."

Her head cocked, and it frustrated him he could not see her face to read it. "Are these of yourself…or someone else?"

He paused. He had been seeing the First Sister for a few weeks every day, his success in unbalancing Trilla the reason for his commitment, but he still didn't trust her. Yet, curiosity had a way of overriding any sense of reason, and now he needed advice more than ever. His mission had made him feel so agonizingly alone, that the company this woman had given him felt like a relief at last.

"Someone," he answered.

"Close to you?" she asked.

His head drooped down, surrendering to her questions. "Yes."

She waited this time, and Xur felt her gaze penetrating his veil, staring straight into his heart without much effort, stealing all his secrets before he could notice.

"Are you afraid to lose this person?"

Xur shook his head. "I'm afraid they're already lost."

"To admit such fears is not defeat," she assured. "But when sensing the future, especially those of nightmares, we must not falter. It must be used to strengthen us, not frighten us into a state of inaction."

"But what if you've already seen it with your own eyes? What if you know it's already set in stone?" he asked, looking back up.

"Then _break_ that stone and reshape it in your own image. The future is not a river to carry us, Brother. It can be changed…_controlled_," she clenched her fist before him. "_You_ have the power to determine whether or not this someone will succumb to this dark fate. You need only realize it."

She was speaking of his will, he recalled, remembering when she told him he was the most interesting "mindless" drone in the Inquisitorious. He could only imagine Trilla, how she no longer possessed the will to resist her dark temptations, and thus now became an exemplar of pain. Subsequently, through hopelessness and despair, she had been broken down to her primal nature.

Yes, he _could_ reshape her, if he could only restore her will to resist…to regain her faith in _restraint_. Only then could she beat back the darkness that consumed her.

But he was focusing too much on her, which he figured was his natural Jedi instincts. While they did him credit, they could also result in his own demise, if he _himself_ was not prepared for what this task required.

_His_ will needed to be a stalwart bastion…_unbreakable_.

"_Ah_, you _are_ listening," the First Sister noticed, and he silently cursed to himself for not maintaining his mental guard during his revelation. "I've noticed a change in the Second Sister as well. She watches you _intently_ now, studying your every move. Despite her prey being on the loose, you have wrestled part of her attention to you, an impressive feat on a dogmatic hunter like herself."

Xur tipped his head. "Your words have proven useful. I challenged her notions, and now through her growing annoyance in me, she tries to understand me."

"I sense something else to your achievement, but it is shrouded in that veil of secrecy," she noted, and he slightly tensed. "You need not fear. Remember my words. All will be revealed when the time comes."

It was hard for him not to tense up. Despite the knowledge he was gaining, he couldn't shake the idea that she certainly knew who he was and was saving her discovery for the perfect moment in which he could not escape.

He _had_ considered that – in the event of capture, what could he possibly do. Xur figured if they were smart, they would execute him on the spot, but he knew they weren't that smart. The idiots would still try to torture him to force him into the role of an inquisitor, but that was literally impossible, not to mention dangerous. When the Separatists captured him in the waning months of the war, they had learned the hard way that torturing someone who already knows the Dark Side is not only a waste of time, but subsequently results in killing sprees. Pooling pain into power was a basic Dark Side technique; it's why they did it to each other, and it's why Trilla enjoys inflicting it on others. Xur hardly enjoyed pain, but he had learned not to be afraid of it.

Still, he had no plans on letting them torture him.

The zabrak stood. "Thank you for your time, Sister."

"And you have _respect_, a quality sorely lacking here," she tipped her head. "You will find that respect can earn you powerful allies, some that could in turn save your life when you are at your most vulnerable."

He tipped his head back and left the room, perhaps for the last time.

It was time to find Cal Kestis.

* * *

**Zeffo, 14 BBY**

**Project Auger Site**

Trilla ran her thumb across the dusted relic, picking up the first layer of dirt that had settled there for perhaps thousands of years. These Zeffo, apparently an ancient fallen civilization, were the muse of an old Jedi Master, Eno Cordova, and through weeks of studying the movements of her Jedi prey, she had deducted that Cal Kestis was searching for something related to his research.

These tombs he was visiting, they were ancient marvels that the Empire had only rumors on before Kestis had begun his journey, and once she had confirmation that the Jedi was seeking them out, the Emperor had reapproved Project Auger. It was a shortsighted and grossly under-resourced initiative, with electromagnetic winds rendering much of the Empire's technology useless initially, but since she had set foot on Zeffo, things were back on schedule.

Through studying Kestis she had discovered that the boy was a textbook Jedi Knight, selfless and humble, naïve and weak-willed, and he had crash-landed on Bracca after his master Jaro Tapal had been gunned down by his own troops. Since he had worked as a scrapper, hiding in plain sight among a work force, just as a few Jedi had done previously…until Cere Junda and the lateron Greez Dritus rescued him.

Her hand clenched around the old vase she held, and raw emotions flooded her mind.

_We need to stick together!_

_No, I'm going to lure them away, and then I'm going to circle back._

Trilla's teeth grit, and the vase began to tremble and whine.

_Stay with the younglings, Trilla. May the Force be with you._

_ Master-,_

"No!" she seethed, and the vase shattered in her grip, the ceramics covering the floor beneath her; dirt and dust floating in the air. "You're going to suffer endlessly, Cere. You hear me, traitor? Everything, _all_ of this, it's _all_ on you."

"Sir-,"

Trilla's hand was outstretched behind her and she grabbed ahold of her intruder, pulling them within stabbing distance. "Do not…_ever_…enter without invitation," she threatened to the trooper dressed in scout gear.

He trembled in her grip. "Y-Yes ma'am…I mean sir! I-It won't happen again, I promise!"

"_What_ is it?"

"W-We have a visitor!" he said, still suspended. "They asked for you!"

Trilla huffed in annoyance, dropping the trooper from the air and pulling her helmet from the desk she was sitting at. "You can rectify your mistake by leading the way," she offered, sliding it over her head and letting it lock into place. "Then you can keep your _head_."

He scrambled to his feet. "Yes sir! Follow me, sir!"

Why soldiers insisted on calling her _sir_ was beyond her. Trilla had dealt with misogyny on an entirely new level as an inquisitor. Since the Empire's rise, it seemed that men in power were beginning to be more and more vocal in their supposed superiority over the opposite sex. Now it was considered to be insulting to refer to a superior officer as "ma'am" regardless of their sex, and Trilla had suffered many occasions of superiors either sexually harassing her, or simply using demeaning insults. If it weren't for her intimidating appearance, as well as the power she wielded, she could envision abuse and indignities she would never permit.

Trilla always kept silent admiration of now _Admiral_ Reyna Vorchenko, a fellow woman seemingly immune to the roadblocks to her progress.

Exiting her temporary workspace for the time being, the trooper led her past scientists and stormtroopers walking the halls of the project base, many of them clearing her path. Eventually they came to the entrance, where some of her men were lounging together.

"Lots of people name their blasters," one said.

"Lots of _cunts_," a tall purge trooper spat, a massive electrohammer slung over his back. "Every cock-sucker who named his blaster ended up the first fucker dead. I'm sure you'll be joining them soon."

Trilla stopped, and the scout trooper guiding her grinded to a halt. "Commander Brutis," she called, and all the troopers other than him suddenly stood straight and acknowledged her. The hulking purge trooper slowly turned his helmet her way. "At my back."

He grumbled to himself and left the troopers, making his way behind her without much haste. She was getting a bad feeling about this coming meeting with their visitor and figured having the most lethal purge trooper in the Empire at her back would be more than enough.

She turned back to the scout trooper. "Continue."

They came out into the overcast environment, moisture beginning to fog up her HUD almost immediately, and she had to press a side control to begin clearing it. Her cape annoyingly flapped in the wind, and it reminded her to once again consider removing it entirely.

Trilla felt it in the Force. When they made it to the landing pad, she wasn't surprised to see who was waiting there.

"Second Sister!" an inquisitor sang to herself, with two purge troopers at her back.

Trilla rolled her eyes behind her helmet, crossing her arms. "Third Sister. What are you-,"

"Archer," Brutis noticed the Commander behind the Third Sister, and he stepped forward next to Trilla. "The fuck _you_ doing here?"

Commander Archer maintained his stance, but Trilla detected recognizable animosity. "Escorting the Sister."

Brutis snorted. "Just like a clone, answering like a protocol droid. Can't trust these fuckers. This son of a bitch is more likely to shoot you in the back than do his job."

The Third Sister hopped up and down. "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Trilla held out her arm, holding the Commander back. "Get at my back. _Now_," she commanded. Even when pushing back on him, he didn't move. She'd seen him cleave men in half with his hammer, as well as be unfazed by even the most powerful kicks and punches.

He complied, nonetheless. Knowing his place was one of his better qualities.

"Sister," Trilla turned her attention. "Explain your arrival."

"_Oh_, don't be so serious," she cooed. "I heard you might have Cal Kestis soon. I wanted to be the first to see when you started breaking his bones."

Trilla enjoyed sharing her pain with others, but the Third Sister's addiction to it made her seem tame. She never enjoyed working with her, but despite her happy-fun demeanor, she was incredibly lethal, mostly annoying her opponents enough to force mistakes.

"How'd a mad fucker like you live this long?" Brutis asked.

The Third Sister giggled. "I'm _really_ good at killing people," she then turned to her escort. "Why don't you lovely boys go do boy things while us girls have a chat."

_Not this again…_

Archer and the other escort stood in salute and made their way to the base, Archer and Brutis sharing a tested glance as they passed each other.

"You too, Commander," Trilla said, and then looked to the scout trooper. "Get out of my sight."

He ran off, and Brutis annoyedly followed in his wake.

The Third Sister chuckled. "Did that little one displease you? I could see the urine ruining his-."

"What is it, Sister?" Trilla asked, her arms crossed. She had work to do, and chats with the Third Sister were _never_ productive.

The inquisitor threw her arm over Trilla's shoulders, much to her dismay, and led her away from the shuttle and to the end of the landing pad, overlooking a valley carved by a running river.

"Remember the old days?" her counterpart sighed, pointing to the massive part of a capital-sized wreckage of a Republic Venator sticking from the ground in the distance. "It's almost like they were yesterday," she reached for her helmet and unlocked it, letting the air seep out before removing it from her head, revealing her dirty blonde short ponytail.

Effa Azulia closed her eyes, breathing in the air, before turning to Trilla. "Come now, join me?"

"We're not doing this-."

"Oh, come on, grumpy lady. Get some fresh air."

Trilla looked at her yellowing eyes through her mask, and eventually sighed, following suit and removing her own helmet. Effa smiled, reaching out to touch her face but elected to settle on her shoulder.

"You were always the most beautiful of us," she said, and Trilla bit back a retort, despite what her instincts told her. "Don't you ever wonder…maybe…what could've been if-,"

"Effa, _don't_," Trilla warned. "You need to watch what you say."

Effa scoffed. "What are they going to do? Torture us some more? They already know we _enjoy_ it now."

_Speak for yourself._

Trilla shook her head and looked away, back at the view of the valley. "What do you want, Effa?"

The blonde human kept her glance on Trilla, but eventually looked back to the valley dejectedly. Trilla had _no_ friends, but if anyone were close to earning that title, it would be Effa, and despite both of their broken states, there was admittedly a bit of normalcy restored when they spoke.

But love was what had destroyed them, and they both knew the price if they ever let it in their hearts again.

"The Second Brother will be here soon," Effa said. "I've heard you two have been at each other's throats."

Trilla growled to herself, keeping her gaze on the river. "I don't trust him."

"You don't trust _anyone_," Effa corrected. "And for good reason. Girls like us, we've got to watch out for ourselves."

To Trilla, Effa was included on that watchlist, regardless of this interaction.

"You really wounded him, you know," Effa continued. "Whatever you said to him, he's…not the same," she then snickered. "I think that poor son of a bitch likes you."

"Oh, he certainly does," Trilla agreed. "He's not as subtle as he thinks he is."

Effa laughed with sadistic delight. "Why haven't you used that against him?"

"Tried. He's not as much as an imbecile as he looks, however."

_And he knows about Cere._

"Well, when you _do_ deal with him," Effa slid her helmet back over her head. "Keep him alive for me?"

Trilla smirked at that. "No promises."

Her commlink blinked, and she answered it via her forearm. "_Second Sister. The _Mantis_ has landed on Zeffo._"

Trilla closed her eyes and smiled. _At last._

"Make all preparations for his arrival at the Tomb of Miktrull," Trilla ordered, and cut the communication.

Effa patted her on her shoulder. "He's here Trilla. Go get your Jedi. Make him _bleed_."

She would, and then Cere would have failed again, just as she deserved.

* * *

Cal Kestis couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The Empire's presence was stronger now than it was during his first visit to Zeffo, and even if their forces still weren't a match for him, the feeling only worsened the longer he traveled. His hands and chest would shake, feeling anticipation for something he couldn't foresee. The objects he touched; his psychometry ability revealing a much more ambitious Project Auger than the initial attempt that resulted in failure. It was almost as if…

It was almost as if his discovery had reenergized their attempts.

Once he made it to the Project Base, which had been built around the tomb's entrance, he landed on the durasteel support, jumping from the rope swing behind him.

BD-1 beeped and whistled as he walked.

"No BD. It's only getting worse," Cal answered.

_Whoooooo._

"I'll manage," he assured, and took a knee. "Could you pull up the holomap for me?"

The little droid complied, bringing up the holoimage just in front of him. Cal studied it for a moment, using his hands to spin and zoom in, a nice feature that he found himself playing around with sometimes.

"Looks like this elevator shaft is the only way down," Cal surmised, pointing to the three-dimensional elevator that lead into a circular area riddled with Zeffo artifacts. He looked up and spotted the door across another chasm that would be impassible…if he were not a Jedi. "We could make that."

_Boo-beep?_

"See the wall there?" Cal pointed as he approached the separated platforms. "That's how."

_Beep-beep._

Cal chuckled. "You won't fall buddy, I promise."

With a running start, Cal jumped from the edge at full speed, clinging to a slick durasteel wall against the side rock face. The Force fazed at his feet and hand, sticking to the surface despite the vertical angle, keeping him from plunging to the rocky surface hundreds of feet below. After a few seconds of running along the wall, he jumped, landing on the other side.

"Told you," Cal huffed, brushing his hands together.

BD made a giggling sound.

"I knew you believed in me."

Cal approached the elevator door, but as he reached for the call button, the Force spiked, and he jolted backwards. It was a spark; a relapse of intense anger, but not directed at him. Its intensity was…unlike anything he had ever felt himself.

He was a Jedi, and it felt like his duty to face it.

The elevator door opened, and he stepped inside, prompting the lift to immediately begin its descent. The feeling in his chest grew, but he fought it away, keeping his hand close to his master's lightsaber. When the elevator reached the bottom, the door opened, and he gasped.

"_Cal Kestis_," the Second Sister greeted, standing in the middle of the circular area. "How _predictable_."

* * *

"Oh _yes_," Trilla sneered behind her mask, looking upon the stunned Cal Kestis, her heart pounding in anticipation. "I know your name, your _past_, and most importantly, about _Cordova_."

She could feel his unease in the Force; her presence a surprise to him, as well as the revelation that she already knew what he was searching for. The Dark Side sparked within her, and Cal's fear became apparent.

He _knew_ he wasn't ready to face her.

"Tell me: why did he hide the holocron?" Trilla asked, and _there_ it was. His demeanor snapped into defense, and his blue blade was ignited within his hand, confirming _everything_ she had deducted about him.

She pulled her hilt from her belt, igniting her terrifying crimson blade. "_Outstanding_."

Trilla approached and they met in the middle, exchanging parries as a way to test defenses. Immediately she recognized that Cal was far surer of himself than on Bracca, and his willingness to go on the offensive was more apparent.

It wouldn't be enough for _her_.

Dodging an errant swing, she slashed at a perfect horizontal angle, catching Cal on his shoulder for little more than a searing burn, but he grunted in pain, nonetheless.

Trilla reveled in the wound she inflicted. "You bleed like all the others, Jedi."

Instead of being intimidated, Cal immediately retaliated, his two-handed swings proving more powerful that she had expected, and she was forced to faze backwards to create space between them.

Cal held his lightsaber in front. "Thought this would be easy, didn't you?"

"Oh, it _will_ be," Trilla sneered and lunged forward at a blinding speed, forcing Cal to roll out of the way of her impaling strike. She went back on the offensive, unleashing a flurry of slashes that forced him to respect, backpedaling and blocking each one, before pushing off of her blade and kicking her chest. Dismissing the pain entirely, Trilla blocked his overhead swing and pushed him away with a powerful force push, knocking him off his feet to tumble over the floor.

Cal rode the roll and pushed off with his hands, landing on both feet to stop Trilla's advancing strike, forcing a saber lock.

"Very well," Trilla admitted, pushing him away. "You won't block the next."

The Jedi breathed, twirling his blade. "I can do this all day."

Trilla hid her surprise. His confidence was…_much_ higher than she expected, which was uncharacteristic of her.

She needed to turn it up.

Trilla feinted a swing, and Cal took the bait, making himself vulnerable enough for her to backflip over him and kick into his back with both legs, landing on her feet as he fell forward. She slashed at his back, and he barely blocked in time, but Trilla deactivated her blade and grabbed ahold of his wrists, flipping him onto his back as his saber rattled out of his hand. Her blade was reactivated with a spin, and her killing blow missed as he redirected her attack with a quick gesture, finding only floor.

With her blade stuck for the moment, Cal rolled back onto his feet and kicked her helmet, buying him enough time to call back his lightsaber while she staggered. The impact made her head ring, and her annoyance surged.

_Enough._

When Cal slashed again, she grabbed ahold of his entire body, suspending him in the air before throwing him backwards, his body crashing through the weak durasteel gate that lead to the tomb.

Cal grunted from the landing as pieces of metal rattled around him, slowly rising, and Trilla fazed at an incredible speed, ready to strike the killing blow.

Danger sense electrified her entire body, and she stopped, just as a ray shield was activated between her and Cal. To the right of Cal, she spotted his little droid companion at the power grid.

Annoyed, she tested the shield regardless, seeing her blade have no effect on the energy field, and eventually she conceded with the extinguishing of her blade. Cal scrambled to his feet, lightsaber in hand, and adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

_Bested by a droid._

Trilla couldn't let him know that, nor could she reveal how much more difficult he was than she anticipated…but it didn't hurt to throw in a compliment to bring their guard down. Jedi fell for it every time.

"You're learning," she said through breaths of refreshment. "Not quite as gifted as Cere's last apprentice…but, not bad."

Cal grumbled to himself in disgust. "You've been keeping count?"

Trilla smiled to herself, hidden by the helmet. _He doesn't know._ "I'm surprised she didn't tell you. Cere was never good at keeping _secrets_."

The Jedi stepped forward, a mocking smile of disbelief on his face. "And you know her _so_ well huh?"

Trilla laughed at his ignorance. "She was _weak_. Cracked in an Imperial torture chair; surrendered the location of her naïve Padawan," she paced back and forth with each revelation, drawing Cal's eyes to follow each step she took. "They would never have found me," she then reached for her helmet, removing it from her head for her prey to see. Cal's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward. "If it wasn't for her. She betrayed me."

Trilla could see Cal piece it together in his eyes. "You're _Trilla_," he recognized.

She shrugged, reveling in his surprise. "In the _flesh_."

He looked on for a moment, and she could feel the turmoil within him. She could sense that Cere had _lied_ to him, and it would once again serve as her fatal mistake.

Cal turned away in denial, making his way down the path. "I won't let you manipulate me."

"So sure, are you?" Trilla called, and he stopped. "When faced with the choice to protect herself or her Padawan, she chose _self-interest_," she said, and Trilla felt her own anger spike at the remembrance of her master's betrayal. "She'll sell _you_ out too."

Cal paused for a moment, but shrugged, turning back to face her. "Well, I can handle myself."

Trilla snorted in amusement. "Can you afford to take that chance? Your new master harbors _great_ darkness. The look on her face when she saw what they had done to me, as I am now," she recalled, drawing the Jedi's interest. "She _turned_, exposing her true nature. She used the _Dark Side_."

Cal shook his head in dismissal. "She cut herself off from the Force."

"Oh? How long until she cracks and betrays you too?" Trilla questioned, pacing as Cal's annoyance built within him. "Is that who you want beside you when you find the holocron?" Trilla paused, looking back to Cal. "What would Jaro Tapal say?"

Cal's anger exploded. "You have _no_ right to mention his name!"

"I wonder," Trilla pressed. "What would he think if he could see his…_Padawan_ now?" she continued, and Cal grit his teeth as he stepped towards the field. "Skulking in the shadows with a betrayer…granting her access to a _legion_ of impressionable students-,"

"No!" Cal growled. "I won't let _anyone_ touch them!"

Trilla could only look on in pity. "I thought the same thing once," she said before turning around, and pausing in place.

The Second Brother stood at the center of the area.

"Trilla," he regarded through his mask, and then looked behind her. "Kid. Sorry I had to…toss you into the abyss."

Trilla shuddered, looking back to Cal, who was staring in confusion. "W-what?" he stammered.

The Second Brother crossed his arms. "You see, _I_ knew Jaro Tapal," he paced, although keeping his distance from Trilla. "And I know he'd be proud his Padawan questioned the words of a manipulative _witch_ and stood by his allies _despite_ the truth being revealed to him."

Trilla's hand inched towards her hilt, still analyzing the confusing situation.

"I _also_ knew Cere Junda," he stepped towards her. "She and my master were friends for decades. Despite our differences, she was a _great _Jedi, not what _you_ paint her to be," he stopped, and cocked his head. "I also knew Trilla Suduri, before she became…whatever _this_ is."

Trilla's fist clenched and her jaw shuddered.

"Now you tell me something, Second Sister: did you _really_ think that pathetic son of a bitch killed me on Iridonia?"

She shook her head in denial. "Xur Eon is _dead_."

The Second Brother tapped something on his forearm, and she heard him grunt. "How about now?"

Trilla's eyes widened. She _knew_ that voice.

He reached for his helmet and revealed his face, and she was far too angry to be ashamed she hadn't realized it sooner.

"Oh my…" Cal gasped.

Xur Eon looked his way. "Yeah…I'm alive," he then turned back to Trilla, his eyes probing her for something she couldn't identify. All she saw was red. "How the hell did you end up like this?"

Trilla seethed. "You already know…I've already told you."

Xur's emotions cracked, and it was the first time she had seen the Second Brother's expression truly break. "It's not too late. I'm going to make the people who did this to you pay."

"_You_ did this to me!" she pointed to her face. "You corrupted me with your lies, your deception and lust for power!" she then turned to Cal and pointed to Xur. "You think he's any different?! All the dark crimes he's committed don't even _compare_ to what _I've_ done."

"He's not a _monster_ like you!" Cal spat.

"Oh?" she challenged. "Tell him, Eon. Tell him what you've done! Murdering inquisitors without mercy, slaughtering entire legions of stormtroopers in the name of vengeance!" she then laughed, a madness falling over her. "Tell him how far _you_ have fallen."

Xur circled her. "Yes, I've done things I'm not proud of, but I _own_ them. You cover them with excuses, blaming your own ineptitude on the failure of others, lying to your superiors even if you know you've failed them.

"The Trilla _I_ knew stood up for herself and didn't back down even when the world was falling around her. She _knew_ that even when something was dark, it _could_ see the light," Xur recalled, and she felt his sadness compound with anger. "She was perfect. All her _complexity_, her gleaming soul…her everlasting _will_," he then stopped, looking on with disgust. "_You're_ just a shadow, a mindless drone wearing Trilla's face; an _insult_ to what she used to be."

"I'm stronger now than I _ever_ was before," Trilla growled, igniting her blade, feeling nothing but blinding hatred for the man before her.

Xur resigned then and there, and he drew the Second Brother's hilt from his back. "Go, Cal," he urged.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I said _go_."

Cal nodded and descended down the path with his droid companion, leaving just the two of them in a standoff.

Trilla screamed. "You'll never escape here _alive!_"

Xur seemed unfazed. "Trilla couldn't even beat me in the _training room_. What hope do _you_ have?" he ignited the blade, flipping the tracks forward for only one. "This whole time I've been holding back, and now, the fucking gloves are off…and _you_ of _all_ people know what happens next."

She paused, holding her blade forward.

"Stay out of my way, Trilla," he warned. "I won't say it _again_."

There was no weighing of options, and to her, there was no _choice_. The only thing that mattered now was _hatred_, as it was the only emotion she felt. Her wrists shook as she held her blade with both hands, white knuckled underneath her gloves while her skin begged for mercy in her grip.

Trilla charged.

As she swung, Xur swung with both hands, their blades clashing, and her hilt flying from her grip in one blow. Stunned, she could only watch as Xur reached out, suspending her entire body into the air and proceeding to throw her backwards until she slammed into the rocky wall.

Dazed, Trilla looked up to see Xur approach, calling her hilt to his free hand and standing over her before she could rise to her feet. She hadn't expected his raw swinging power, and she had paid for her over-grip dearly. Her own blade was at her neck now, the man she once knew about to take her life.

"Enough, Trilla!" Xur shouted. "You can't beat me!"

It was a lucky occurrence of chance, and they both knew that, and she could tell he was only trying to intimidate her into giving up before she had even challenged him.

That was _her_ way.

She looked up to him. "I'm sorry…I-I know," she drooped her head. "Please…just…," she begged.

His guard fell for a moment, and she zipped behind him, nearly disappearing from existence as she pulled him into a headlock, suffocating him.

"Your compassion was always your _weakness_," she chuckled in his ear as he gasped. In a quick move, he dropped her blade and reached behind, his abnormal wingspan allowing him to wrap his arm around her head and pull himself forward, flipping Trilla over him and off his neck. He stabbed downwards, but he only hit rock as she somersaulted and called her hilt back into her hand, just in time to fall into a saber lock. She laughed, "Still as _gullible_ as ever!"

Xur smirked. "I'm not the one who fell for it!" he then pushed off her blade, his strength making her stumble backwards. "All this time I was right beside you, and you had _no idea_. None of you did!"

They exchanged blows, hers of speed and agility, his of strength and power, each of her blocks making her stagger while he stayed on his toes with each of her movements. One thing became frighteningly apparent as they continued, and Trilla knew this was unlike any fight she had ever engaged in as the Second Sister. Most Jedi were easily outmaneuvered by her brilliance and cunning savagery, quite literally willing to wipe out an entire population of civilians just to draw them out through their compassionate weakness. Xur had compassion…but he didn't have that blind righteousness that had been the death of most of her prey. She could execute hundreds of people, and he'd just move on, knowing he'd be better off waiting for another chance to strike. She'd seen it when he was an imposter, his patient cunning that he must've gained after Order 66, something no Jedi had been smart enough to pick up on.

There was a reason he'd killed so many inquisitors so quickly and so easily…and that was because he just didn't care. Survival was all that mattered…survival to fight another day, and he could not have chosen a better day to reveal himself. Here and now, he had cut her off from escape and support, leaving her vulnerable; to be taken out without a second thought. It was such a lethal and vast oversight on her part, but by now, she was far too enraged at seeing his face again to care. This was the man who had abandoned her when she needed him most, perhaps the starkest betrayal of all.

She wanted nothing more than to end his life, but she wasn't stupid, and she knew when she was vastly outmaneuvered and flat out outmatched. His power was literal insanity, the speed behind his swings unnatural for the strength they projected, rivaling the brute force of the Ninth Sister. Her wrists began to scream in pain with each deflection she was forced to make, and her attack windows only narrowed the longer it progressed. Xur's defense wasn't spectacular, but his offensive ferocity made it virtually irrelevant. On multiple occasions, she fazed away, only to see him leap immediately back to her, leaving no space for her to recuperate, and the toll began to show on her face.

Xur's grim look filtered exploding anger as their sabers locked, Trilla's arms fumbling under his strength even as the Dark Side moved to replenish her ailments. He pressed the attack, growling with each swing, his own hatred _surpassing_ her own in the Force, which resulted in a wide-eyed expression of shock across her face. He hammered down, her knees buckling under the pressure as she barely defended herself, until the last one finally knocked her hilt from her hand as her knees hit the dirt. She spread her digits, stunned as they stung with immense pain, and then looked up to him.

He looked nothing like what she remembered. There was nothing but anger in his eyes, as opposed to the bold confidence he had always projected…what she had failed to see in the Second Brother. Yet, despite her current defeat, she couldn't help but realize that despite his victory, he had looked as if he had lost, and she knew why. His eyes projected despair…his hope of ever getting her back draining away forever.

Trilla giggled to herself, adopting a maniacal nature as it progressed. "You've failed…haven't you? You came all this way for _me_, just to realize that the Trilla you knew is gone _forever_."

Xur looked down, his eyes shutting as he seized ever so slightly, and she felt his darkness dissipate in a sudden manner, most likely as his natural ability dismantled and cured the growing corruption within him.

"No…she's not gone," he denied. "Just…lost. I've seen it."

"You're delusional," she sneered. "You've fallen just as I have. You think you're any better than me?"

The zabrak held his hilt at the ready, but after a deep breath, he deactivated it with a snap, returning it to his back. "No…I don't."

She certainly didn't expect that answer, and she quickly found that she had cornered herself with that line of questioning…the seed of doubt she had hoped to plant not taking root in the slightest. Now she was just left on her knees virtually begging for mercy against a man who had her outplayed, outgunned and outwitted. It was horrifically demeaning to her reputation as an inquisitor, and if she couldn't beat Xur Eon, then what did it matter? She'd trained four years for this moment, and this was how it ended.

"If that's true…then finish it," she goaded.

Xur shook his head. "I'm not going to kill you, Trilla."

"Oh?" she questioned. "You've killed so many others. What makes me any different?"

"Don't play naïve with me," he spat. "You already know why I won't kill you."

She did…but she needed to hear him say it…and knowing he wouldn't kill her already ignited her mind back into motion, probing the area for her lightsaber, as well as ways to possibly retaliate.

"You were right about one thing, Trilla," he admitted. "I did look at you with purpose and ambition…it's just a shame you never acted on it strong enough."

"Oh, there's still time…" she trailed off, twisting her fingers. Her hilt rattled against the stone floor as she sprang to her feet, but it stopped midway to her grip, held back by Xur's own outstretched hand.

"You were always slick," he granted her. "Just not slick enough for me."

She sneered, her free hand gesturing subtly to lift his own dropped helmet behind his view. "That remains to be seen."

"Made you look."

Something smacked into the side of her head, certainly duraplast, but she never relinquished her hold on her blade…only to feel _that_ collide into her stomach as Xur simply pushed it her way enough to rattle it off course. A loud _boom_ followed in the Force, and she felt that same stasis field envelop and trap her in place, unable to move.

Xur pulled his helmet into his hand, and then tossed it at her frozen feet. "Ninth Sister said you liked souvenirs from your prey…there's one for you," he said, turning to the ray shield, and with an outstretched hand, cast a burst of force lightning at the emitter, short circuiting it until the field fell. Trilla watched him grab ahold of his wrist after the attack, his fingers seared.

His power came at a cost, it seemed.

Once he stepped past the barrier, he fired at the overcharge conduit, reactivating the field, but this time he almost screamed in pain. The stasis field dropped around her, and she was free, perhaps from his lack of focus.

"Run along, Xur Eon," she taunted. "We'll meet again."

Xur massaged his wrist and turned. "For your sake…I'd fucking hope not."

With that, he left her, chasing after Cal Kestis into the Tomb of Miktrull. Once he was out of sight, she reached for her commlink.

"Commander Brutis, inform the Third Sister: Xur Eon is alive," she said, hardly believing her own words.

"_Second Sister. Repeat. Did you say Xur Eon?_" he replied.

"Yes."

She heard a huff. "_Fucking hell._"

Trilla ignored his informal and unenthusiastic reaction, mostly in part because she was more focused on the helmet she held in her grip. Its design wasn't anything special and yet it sat there…taunting her through its eyes as she had failed to see through Eon's disguise. His words echoed in her mind as she tried to regain her focus, but her failure hung over her head like a cancer, and before long, she exploded.

Igniting her blade and severing the helmet in two, she turned on her heel with a deep growl, marching back to the turbolift.

* * *

Cal grappled onto the sturdy set of vines hanging from a shattered pillar, grunting as he used each of them as footholds for his climb. Silently, he wished the Zeffo hadn't constructed their tombs in such a cryptic way, but then again, he figured the secrecy was for the best. It had kept the Empire out after all.

Until now.

As he pulled himself on top of the broken pillar, he leapt into an exposed staircase, careful not to lose his footing and fall into the neigh-bottomless pit below him.

"I still can't believe it, BD. He's alive," Cal huffed, ascending the staircase. "You know what that means, right?"

_Doe-preet?_

Cal reached the top and entered a large, domed room, water dripping from the cracked roof that had to have eroded for the past millennia. Its majesty was comparable to that of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, and for the first time since the Purge, the memory of that didn't bring him such sadness.

"It means we're not alone in this fight."

He stepped forward on the wet surface, but he stopped. He had become so caught up in the revelation, that he had forgotten to inform Cere and Greez of his progress. Tapping his earpiece, he opened the channel.

"I'm in the Tomb, and you're not going to believe what I have to say, but…Cere…why didn't you tell me about Trilla?"

"_Because she's a liar_," the mischievous voice of the Second Sister came through on the other end…sounding somewhat bitter.

"_You_…," Cal gasped. "Still alive huh?"

"_Very much so, Padawan_," she sneered. "_Xur Eon is not the warrior you paint him to be_."

The red-haired Jedi trekked through the room, observing it while the channel stayed open. "I doubt that," he scoffed. "Cere told me you two have a past. He probably just let you live."

"_I'm sure she did…but I assume she told you I died…didn't she?_"

He said nothing, truthfully trying to focus on his task at hand.

Trilla laughed in his earpiece. "_You know, she never trusted Eon, not even when he was a Jedi. How do you think she will react now?_"

Cal grumbled in annoyance. "He saved my life once. I'll convince her."

She giggled. "_Poor child. A fool's errand._"

He heard the channel click off for now, and he returned his focus to the large stone brick that was stuck into the ground. Not far from it was a pathway too high for him to jump to, but with the stone brick…

"What do you think BD? Think I can push it?"

_Boo-doop pree!_

"Ha! Thanks buddy," Cal smiled and prepared himself in a gathering stance, summoning as much Force energy as he could.

"Hold it, Jedi!" he heard and spun around, his blue blade ignited. In dropped multiple stormtroopers from ascension cables, pointing their blasters, while scout troopers dropped in with stun sticks electrified. "This is as far as you go!"

The Jedi cracked his neck and twirled his blade. "Give me your best shot."

One scout trooper stepped forward and swung his stick, only to watch Cal lean out of the way and trip him up, before plunging his blade into the trooper's back.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," one of the blaster troopers whined. "This is it isn't it?"

Cal suppressed a smile. He didn't enjoy killing but scaring stormtroopers never lost its comedy. He was granted double vision; an image of the future overlaid with the image of the present; his saber ward raised and deflected each fired bolt back to their origin, killing each of his attackers. Only two scout troopers remained, backing off.

"Dammit," one of them complained. "We're so _fucked_."

Cal stepped towards them, but stopped as more troopers arrived, this time with a Purge Trooper, one of the largest he had ever seen.

"If any man dies with piss staining his armor, I'll rape his _fucking corpse!_" he shouted, revealing his heavy electrohammer while the new troopers beside him opened fire. Cal backed off but deflected beams defensively, only a few hitting their targets while the scout troopers advanced, reinvigorated by the purge trooper's raunchy motivation. Stun sticks swung his way, and he parried each one before flipping over the advancing scout troopers and landing with his hand pressed to the floor, unleashing a powerful force repulse that cleared the area.

The Purge Trooper brushed it off. With a heavy heave, he swung his hammer with centrifugal momentum, nearly cleaving Cal's legs at his knees before he flipped over the swing. Riding the speed, the trooper pulled the hammer overhead and brought it down, Cal sidestepping in time to avoid the heavy attack, taking the chance to kick the trooper in the chest.

Nothing happened, in fact, Cal swore _he_ had staggered more from his own kick.

The trooper back handed him, and the back of his fist caught Cal's jaw and plowed him to the ground, water splashing onto his face as he landed. His face pulsed with pain, finding it hard to even close his mouth after such an intense blow.

Danger sense jolted his neck hairs, and he rolled, but the killing swing was stopped by another blade. Cal looked up to see Xur Eon heave, using his blade to push the hammer out of the way and then hit the trooper with a massive force push that reverberated through the room, planting the massive man into the wall nearby.

When he made no move to get up, Xur reached down. "You alright, kid?"

Cal took his hand, nodding. "Yeah…face is probably bruised, but I'll manage."

The zabrak huffed in detectable annoyance, placing his hilt back on his back. "Nothing that'll kill you," he shrugged, then looked to the trooper. "Sorry Brutis, nothing personal."

Commander Brutis grumbled, trapped in the old stone. "Eat shit, horned fucker."

Xur snorted to himself and turned back to the Jedi, alright beginning to prob the area. "I see you've been busy."

"Always," Cal shrugged. "You?"

"Same shit, different uniform," he shrugged back. "What're you doing here? I mean, I'm sure Trilla knows, but she and I haven't exactly been on speaking terms lately."

The red-haired Jedi was hesitant, still holding his hilt close. "Look, I trust you, but I'd have to ask you to spill first. You _are_ still in an inquisitor uniform."

Xur tipped his head in concession. "Fair enough. Maybe later. I'm sure there are spies everywhere. For now, I guess I can try to clear the way for you while you do…_whatever_ it is you're doing."

Cal's earpiece reactivated. "_You're running out of time_," Trilla half-sang.

He groaned. "For what?"

Xur looked baffled. "Huh? You talking to someone?"

The Jedi pointed to his ear and mouthed _Second Sister_ to Xur as Trilla answered. "_My scouts located an artifact of interest at the rear of this tomb. Even now I'm studying it, learning its secrets_."

The zabrak placed his own device in his ear and rolled his eyes "Patch me in kid. I'll take care of that for you."

Cal relayed the signal.

"_It seems Cordova was rather taken with these Zeffo…perhaps enough to hide the holocron amongst their bones._"

"Hey Trilla, Cal's busy. You can suck his magic cock later." he grumbled, and Cal swore he heard Brutis chuckle to himself…but he himself grimaced in slight confusion.

"_So Eon has joined you after all_," Trilla hid her annoyance as she tried to ignore him, without much real success. "_As I predicted_."

"Really? _Wow_," Xur mocked with awe. "You've got quite the divine intelligence to figure that out. Did the Force whisper that into your ear?"

All they received was an annoyed grumble before the channel clicked off again. Cal took his chance to finally cross his arms. "Magic…what?"

Xur scoffed. "You don't know what that is?"

Cal's eyes paced away, and Xur's eyes widened. "Dick."

"Oh…" Cal realized. "_Cock_…I like that."

The zabrak turned his head slightly, beginning to pace away. "Bet you do. Stay alive, I'll catch up with you later."

"Wha-…where are you going?" he called out, never minding his comment.

"To thin the herd."

* * *

Things were uneventful for the Third Sister. Effa had spent her time sitting cross-legged at the corner of their overlook at the top level of the Tomb, counting how many droplets of water fell from the ceiling and into the endless pit that spanned the entire carved earth. Animals croaked and called, their sounds reverberating against the stone walls, echoing everywhere.

"_Ugh_," she pouted, leaning back on her hands and crossing her legs in front of her. "I shouldn't have let Second Sister have all the _fun_."

An electrostaff wielding purge trooper stood guard behind her and said nothing, keeping his eyes facing forward.

"Lieutenant!" she called, and he straightened. "Remind me to throw the corporal off this ledge next time he comes by."

"_Uhhh_," he stammered. "Y-yes sir."

She blew air through her mouth in a torrent. "I'm a lady, you dick."

"Sorry," he apologized. "Yes ma'am. I offer to even do it myself, if you wish."

"You would? How sweet!" she said with glee. "I guess I won't throw you off after all. Even if your shrill of terror would-,"

Running footsteps stopped her mid-sentence. "Sister! We're under attack!" the fabled corporal reappeared.

Effa turned, covering the area of her mouth with both her hands. "We are? What a tragedy!" she gasped, and then grabbed ahold of him with the force, and hurled him over the edge, his scream echoing through the chamber. She laughed, pointing his way. "Ha, ha, ha! Look at him fly!"

There was a moment of silence as she listened, his voice fading away.

"Ma'am."

"_Quiet!_ He's not finished yet!"

A few moments passed, and the screaming was gone.

"Ma'am, I think we actually _are_ under attack."

Effa let her head hang backwards in dismay. "_Bleh_. You bore me," she pouted as she rose to her feet, walking back into the small Zeffo chamber where they had established an encampment, the trooper following in tow.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, ma'am."

Once inside, Effa walked straight to the orange-shouldered stormtrooper. "Alright pussies, what's going on?"

He stood at attention. "Sorry to disturb you sir-,"

"_Ahem!_"

"Sorry…_ma'am_," he corrected. "But we've had a disturbance on the lower floors. The corporal I sent you says he…," he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck.

Effa cocked her head and had her wrists at her hips. "You mean the one who just flew over the edge?"

"_Yes_…well…he claims to have seen Xur Eon helping the Jedi."

The purge trooper behind her snorted, nearly into laughter. "Always knew that shiny had no future. Xur Eon? What a fucking idiot."

Effa giggled. "Right? That sorry little bastard is dead!"

The archway that served as their exit from their encampment collapsed in a loud _boom_, rocks and debris covering their only exit. Every trooper stationed pointed their blasters at it, attention unwavering. The purge trooper behind her drew his staff, the ends electrifying in a purple glow.

"Charge and lock!" the stormtrooper commanded, holding his fist.

Effa waited, her hilt in her hand as she watched the only way in. The only noises she heard were that of settling debris and controlled breathing, waiting for the next attack. Tentatively, the purge trooper inched forward, getting ground just in front of Effa. She counted ten stormtroopers in all, plus her, the commander, and the electrostaff. More than enough for anyone.

Another explosion ripped, and the ground below the first line of troopers fell from under them, sucking four into its gaping hole. Through the hole appeared a dark figure jumping in with a powerful force wave that knocked even her off her feet. The impact with the ground had her slow to get up, but she heard everything she needed to hear.

"Holy shit, that's _him!_"

Xur Eon went on the attack, crushing one stormtrooper's trachea with a closing of his fist, while engaging the spinning mechanism on his hilt to deflect the incoming blasterfire. Keeping his grip on the dead trooper, he swung the body, plowing over another in a loud _crack_ of bones. The front-line troopers dropped their blasters and drew stun batons, prepared to engage in melee.

Effa ignited her blade as Xur stopped the spinning and slid along the floor into the middle of his adversaries, flipping to his feet and running his blade through another trooper. Two more advanced, swinging stun sticks only to see him backflip behind them, cleaving the arm from one, and then using that severed arm to smack down its owner, already screaming in pain. The other, he bisected at the waist, the trooper's pained groan the last sound he ever made.

"Kill him!" Effa commanded. "Make him _suffer!_"

The final four troopers congregated around him, and Xur deactivated his blade, blocking attacks from knives with his gauntlets while also ducking under stun sticks. He jumped and outstretched his hands, knocking aside two advancing troopers with force pushes, and then proceeded to grab the wrist of the next knife attack, flipping the trooper over his body and twisting his arm enough to hear fractures in bone, as well as a cry in agony. He sidestepped around the final attack, tripping him up and then plunging his blade into his chest as he fell.

Only she and the purge trooper remained.

He swung his electrostaff at Xur, only to see it parried by the crimson blade, while Effa swung as well, only to fall into a lock when Xur activated the second emitter. With immense strength, he pushed off, making them both stagger, and then sliced the trooper's staff in two at the middle, taking two of his fingers with it. Shaking off the pain, the trooper surprised him with his quick attack, tackling him to the ground and plunging a knife into Xur's shoulder.

Effa tried to revel in the man's short grunt of pain, but the zabrak was quick, lifting the trooper from him with a force grip, and then crushing him with a sickening, bloody death. The trooper's limp body hit the ground, and Xur rolled back to his feet, leaving only Effa to stand in his way as he dug the blade out of his shoulder

He spit blood from his mouth and let out heavy breathing. "I'm back you _fuckers_," he huffed, hurling his saber into the head of a crawling trooper still alive as he dropped the bloody knife.

Effa giggled with intense pleasure. "I loved every moment of that, Brother."

His saber returned to his hand. "I'm sure you did," twirling the blade, his eyes beginning to tint yellow. "Now you _join_ them."

"Not so fast!" she raised her finger, and then reached up, removing her helmet from her face.

Xur paused, and then scoffed, looking away. "You've got to be shitting me."

"Surprised?"

The zabrak shook his head and swung, Effa able to parry until they fell into a saber lock. "Try disappointed," he said, before they broke off, and he tapped into his earpiece. "You hear me, Trilla? I'm not surprised the two of you were too _weak_ to resist the Dark Side and submit to the very regime that _betrayed us all!_"

Effa laughed almost hysterically. "Look at you! Filled with such _hatred_. You may be _Xur Eon_, but you'll always be one of _us_."

"_You cannot stop what is coming,_" Trilla replied. "_No matter how powerful you are, you cannot stop the Empire!_"

"_Stop_ it?" Xur then laughed, and his eyes turned full yellow. "The Empire will become _dust!_ _I_ will make it so!"

He reached out, and Effa catapulted backwards, the force of his attack shattering the wall behind her in a loud _crash_, and she fell, her senses blurred until she roughly landed on the uneven floor below. There was a loud _crack_, and Effa's left leg erupted in a fit of excruciating pain, her scream echoing through the chamber. Pain was an old friend of hers, but this sudden amount was more than she bargained for.

Fighting though it regardless, she propped herself up, fighting tunnel vision before she blacked out, and to see Xur land with a shockwave in the Force, the Dark Side siphoning through him like a conduit.

Effa tried to claw away, but her leg was useless, and only weighed her down, not to mention the vomit that poured from her mouth after trying to move _at all_.

"Inquisition…," she said through painful squeals, spitting the phlegm from her mouth. "…is inevitable…for…_all_…of us."

Xur stood over her by now, his eyes still burning. "That's what Kaidan said," he revealed, his crimson blade at her neck. "Just before I _killed_ him."

Her eyes went wide with fear.

A battle roar reverberated through the chamber, and Effa saw Trilla appear from above and swing down at Xur, forcing him to block the attack. After a few parries, Trilla forced herself in between him and Effa, and pushed Xur away while he was mid-swing.

The zabrak growled. "Will you fuck off?!"

"Now!" she commanded, and her entire purge trooper squad landed, and it was just then that Effa noticed Commander Brutis slowly crawl from the dent in the wall he had been forced into. With the zabrak surrounded, Trilla stood straight, stepping forward. "Surrender! You can't beat us all!"

Xur looked around, seeing the array of 12 different purge troopers…and deactivated his blade, prompting Trilla to chuckle with delight. "As I said, you cannot defeat the _Empire_. Our numbers are far too great. You have _no one_."

"Actually…"

Trilla turned to the clicking of a DC-17 pistol, and she spotted Commander Archer making his way towards Xur, his blasters fixed on her. "I wouldn't say that. Boys!"

Five other purge troopers turned their blasters either to her or a fellow trooper, forming a defense around Xur.

Trilla's rage spiked. "_Traitors!_"

Archer shook his head, removing his helmet to reveal the face of Jango Fett, a black goatee and ruffled hair his features. "On the contrary…I never betrayed _my_ general. Commander Archer was just an alias. My real name is _Raven_…Captain of the 502nd Legion…but…you already know that about me, Commander Suduri."

Xur's eyes were wide with recognition at the sight of his old friend, and Trilla's rage was only enhanced as her eyes shut. Raven continued, "I held out hope for a long time that you might still be there…but I guess I was wrong," he said, sliding his helmet back over his head. "If anyone is the traitor, it's _you_, _Second Sister_."

Trilla screamed in a fit of rage and reached out but was only swiped aside by a force attack from Xur in defense. The still loyal troopers attacked the ones that had turned, but those still held their ground in defense of their old Jedi General.

"Let's get Kestis and get out of here!" Xur suggested, and engaged the purge troopers, killing each of the loyalists in their way with ease, escaping the chamber, leaving just a few stragglers, Trilla, Effa and Brutis.

Trilla stumbled back to her feet, making her way to Effa's side, who was whimpering in pain, taking a knee. She turned to the stragglers. "Find them, and _kill_ them, now! Bring me Kestis _alive_."

They saluted and spread off…all for Brutis, who limped to the middle of the chamber, his hammer back over his shoulder.

"That means you as well, Commander!"

Brutis removed his helmet, revealing the face of a human male, the side of his cheek scarred in a hexagon pattern, likely from a ray shield accident. He only gave her one glace, before spitting to the ground.

"Xur Eon made the two of you look like fucking twi'lek pole dancers. I'm finished."

"You swore to the Empire!" Trilla raged, rising to her feet. "You are a member of the Inquisitorious, our best! I command you to bring me the Jedi!"

"Fuck the Inquisitorious," he spat, unfazed by her intimidation. "Fuck the Empire," he then looked directly in her eyes. "Fuck _you_."

He stormed off, and as much as Trilla wanted to kill him, she knew he'd take too much of her time. Now, she had a Jedi to catch…_he_ would pay in _time_.

She knelt back beside Effa, whose leg was still lying stationary on the ground. Trilla's embrace of the Dark Side masked it, but she could hear the faint cry of her wound in the Force, her hand twitching to reach out, but its call was gagged, unnoticeable.

Unusable.

"You…let him go?" Effa gasped, sweat pouring down her face.

"_He's_ expendable. You're not."

The blonde human smiled. "_Awww_. That's so sweet of you."

Trilla snorted in disgust. "Shut your hole, or I'll take it back."

Effa whimpered through another wave of pain. "Sorry."

* * *

Xur hid his own pain as he ran, tailed by Raven and the last members of the 502nd, trying his best to bottle down his rising emotions. When the Third Sister removed her helmet, and he saw Effa's face, it only reminded him of Kaidan, and in turn every Jedi he had ever watch die during the war. Everyone he had ever cared about, his _family_, was gone, and the Empire had found them…using that against him.

Something in him had finally given, and he lost complete control of himself. He was going to _kill_ her, even with the terrified look on her face, pleading for mercy from an old friend, there were no second thoughts.

That _terrified_ him.

How long until that was someone else he loved…how long until that was _Trilla?_

The Dark Side granted him great power, but he wasn't _himself_ in that state. Trilla, Effa, Kaidan…they had all lost themselves, perhaps forever, and he would _never_ allow that to happen again.

Maybe he himself needed a few lessons on restraint.

"General," Raven called, and he stopped his run. "Over here. It's Kestis."

The zabrak walked back to where Raven stood, and through the arched doorway was a massive room, perhaps the largest in the Tomb, a large, cracked, glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Its majesty was short-lived, however, as Cal Kestis craftily hurled a torch at a section of the supporting chain held together by old vines, burning away the final connection. The chandelier fell, glass cascading as it shattered below.

"Interesting," Xur noted, and turned to Raven. "Let's go."

"We'll cover your escape, General," the Captain said, drawing his second blaster. "Go on."

The zabrak snorted. "No. I'm not just going to leave you here," he denied, looking back to the others. "_All_ of you. Not after what you've risked."

Raven shrugged. "It's all part of the plan, my friend," he insisted. "We'll find our way back. I promise."

Xur hesitated, but he felt the need to trust his old friend, and he eventually nodded with his blessing.

"Rage against the dying light," one trooper said, and the others echoed.

"Rage against the dying light," Raven followed.

Xur smiled. "Rage against the dying light. Good luck, and…may the Force be with you."

Raven tipped his head, and then signaled form up with a gesture. "Let's move! Time to show the Empire what _real_ soldiers are made of!"

Xur watched them go, and he swore to know each and every one of their names in time. Over those six months, he was never alone, and he was glad he stood up for them all that time.

He leapt from the archway and landed with a splash below, trying to catch up to Cal as the Jedi made his way to the fallen glass.

"Hold it, Second Brother," he heard, and Xur stopped, a sigh escaping his mouth. When he turned his head, he saw Blaze, holding his rifle to him. "I liked you, kid," he admitted. "But I would've never thought you'd be a _traitor_."

Xur gulped. "I'm sorry Blaze. It's nothing personal."

"I should _kill_ you right now," he admitted, but lowered his blaster with a huff. "But you saved my life once. Consider us even…but if I ever see you again-,"

"I'm sure, Blaze," Xur answered before he finished. "Thank you. Maybe one day you'll see it."

He took off, and Blaze made no move to pursue.

The entire room shook as Xur approached the edge of the platform, leading to the falling place of the chandelier, where Cal had reactivated a device that was now raising a structure from under the inch-high water.

When Xur landed below, Cal reached for his saber, but paused once he saw who it was. "Thanks for clearing the way," the Jedi thanked as Xur approached. "Made finding _this_ easier."

"What is it?" he asked, watching it rise.

"It's called the Spire of Miktrull. I think this is the way out, at least something like this was for the last tomb I visited," Cal explained as the structure halted in place. Xur gave him a confused look, and the young man winced. "It's…a long story."

"We'll have to trade," Xur suggested as they stepped inside the structure. Cal's companion, BD-1, hopped from his back and scanned the area, while Cal paced to a circular button that he pressed with one foot. The entire structure then began to ascend, and Xur struggled to keep his balance initially.

BD-1 stopped on a mural on the slick, stone wall as the structure closed around them, and then began to play a holo-recording.

"Is that-," Xur asked, finding slight recognition in the man that was projected.

"Master Eno Cordova," Cal answered. "Did you know him?"

The zabrak shook his head. "_Nah_…just I thought I heard Trilla mumbling about an old Jedi with that name."

Cal's anxiety rose with that, but he turned to the recording that played. Cordova was shown examining the mural before them, glee clearly present on his face.

"_Here it is_," Cordova presented. "_I have finally found an intact representation of this sacred Zeffo artifact. My friend, look closely_," he said, pointing to specific parts of the art, and Xur's brow raised with confusion as to what was playing out before him. "_This is Miktrull at the Vault on Bogano. You can see an object in their hand. Based on this imagery, I believe this object allows a Force wielder to perceive the mysteries of the Vault. This is the key, and the guide: the Zeffo Astrium._"

Cal stepped forward, putting the pieces together, and Xur felt completely at his mercy.

"_But who would destroy images of it and why?_" Cordova sucked in a heavy breath of air. "_It requires more research. However…our next step is clear: find an Astrium. If any still exist_."

The red-headed Jedi narrowed his eyes. "An Astrium," he echoed, and looked down to BD below. "You ever heard of it?"

BD shook its head.

"Me neither, but a key…," Cal mused. "Yeah, I understand that. Looks like we know what we have to find," he then looked back to Xur as the structure opened, letting in the sunlight of Zeffo. "I could use your help…_we_ could," he corrected, pointing to BD.

Xur scoffed. "Well, I'm going to have to play catch up, but," he then nodded. "If you'll have me, I'll do my best…just know that I may have to run off my own now and then. I've got my own mission."

Cal tipped his head in concession. "Sure, but it's great to have you back, nonetheless," he offered his hand.

Xur smiled and shook it. "Good to see I'm not the only one taking it to the Empire. You got a ride out of here?"

He nodded. "Yeah, we can get you out of here."

"Good, good, because…I think I probably pissed them off pretty good."

_Boo-boop doo-dope-pree_.

Xur laughed at BD. "No shit? Really?"

Cal nodded. "Yeah, a few of them landed near us while we made it through the Tomb. Admittedly, it was…pretty funny."

"I'll have to show you," Xur pointed, leading Cal out of the structure at to the view of the majestic valley. "The art of throwing stormtroopers around is an exquisite one."

"_Very good, Padawan_," Trilla's voice keyed in through their earpieces, and they both stopped in their tracks. "_You've cleared the way_."

"What are you talking about?" Cal asked, and Xur palmed his face.

Her laugh sent chills down both spines. "_I needed this Tomb raised, and now that I have what I need, you are of no use to me_."

Xur growled. "Trilla, if you go after Cal, you go after _me_. You understand that, right? Don't make me beat your ass _again_."

She laughed again. "_Fight together. Die together. Just as all Jedi will._"

Trilla had been desperately trying to ignore him ever since their duel, but he could hear the disarray in her voice, despite its sadistic and arrogant edge. That gave him hope, at least. Maybe his words were getting through after all.

"I'm not talking to _you_, Second Sister," Xur implored. "For what it's worth, Trilla, and despite the circumstances…it was good to be with you again, and know that one day, I _promise_ to free you from this cage the Empire has thrown you in."

There was no response from her, just open-line static…until the connection was severed completely.

Xur sighed, his head drooping down as he closed his eyes.

"Goodbye, Trilla."

* * *

**That was the longest chapter I have ever written, and it just ended up taking a lot of words to get my thoughts down. I know it was a lot, and I'm sorry if you're feeling overwhelmed with the reveals that happened here, but I hope you enjoyed it.**

**This is the end of Act 1, and next chapter I will actually be doing an interlude that will go back in time like the Prologue, before continuing with this main story.**

**How did I do? Please let me know! I can see this story has been doing well since I started writing, so thanks everyone for the support, and in the meantime, I'll continue to bring you quality chapters. This story is an ambitious project for me, and I hope you're having as much fun experiencing this as I am writing it.**

**Thanks for reading! **


	9. INTERLUDE

**INTERLUDE**

**STAR WARS  
****THE CLONE WARS**

"No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth."

_Siege in the Outer Rim! Numerous worlds are now stricken by endless battle as the Republic enacts Operation Countdown, their daring endgame plot to finally bring a swift end to the Clone War. One of these worlds is an ancient homeworld of the Jedi Order, where a group of younglings and their Jedi protectors are now trapped under the shadow of a Separatist invasion. Alone and on the run, Jedi Master Cere Junda and her Padawan Trilla Suduri, send out a desperate call for help to anyone in the Republic who may be listening…_

* * *

**Ossus, 19 BBY**

**Jedi Training Grounds**

"Come on! Keep moving!" Cere Junda shouted over the explosion of mortar fire, guiding six younglings through a trench pathway, blaster bolts raging overhead. Separatist gunships screamed across the sky as they dropped their payloads atop outnumbered Republic clone forces, their garrison stretched thin as of a few weeks ago, shipped off to consolidate legions on other fronts.

The Separatists couldn't resist their chance. To strike at a planet so holy to the Jedi…it could be seen as a serious moral blow to the Republic.

A Coruscant Guard clone trooper, his white armor tarnished by the reddish sand that covered Ossus, jumped down from his trench position, just in front of Cere.

"General, you need to get the younglings into the tunnels! We're about to be overrun!" he implored.

Cere tipped her head in agreement, and then turned to the back of the group. "Trilla!"

Trilla Suduri, her own Jedi robes turning redder by the minute, nodded in acknowledgement. "Everyone inside, let's go!" she guided, while Cere turned a metal handle until a hatch unlocked, creaking as she lifted it open. Each youngling jumped through the hatch and into the underground pathway away from the trench, to relative safety for now. Once all were inside, Cere looked to Trilla.

"You too."

Her Padawan winced. "Master, we can't just leave these men!"

"Don't worry about us!" that same trooper assured. "We'll be alright. Keep those kids safe!"

"Inside, Trilla!" Cere commanded this time. With an unsure huff, Trilla submitted to her master's command, clambering into the hatch and sliding down the ladder until she hit dirt. The air was still, most likely undisturbed until they had opened the hatch for the first time in a number of years. She found the younglings there, waiting for their next move.

The hatch closed above, and the deafening roar of battle was silenced to a muffle as Cere landed behind her.

"Is everyone alright?" Cere asked, pushing past a tested Trilla, who stood off to the side with her arms crossed, watching her master kneel to the height of the children of various races. Some shivered in fear, the younger ones, while others nodded with finality…and one, the oldest, stood tall. "Everything is going to be fine. We just need to lay low for a little while."

"But Master Junda, we should help!" the oldest suggested. "We're Jedi!"

"No, Petro," she insisted, grasping ahold of his shoulder. "This is a fight we can't win, and I'm not going to endanger your lives any further."

"But-,"

"That's _final_," she finished, sternly, rising to her feet. "You all remember what we practiced?" she asked, and everyone nodded, Petro with defeat in his eyes. "Good. Go to your places. We'll catch up to you soon."

With sporadic nods, the younglings filed through the tunnels, splitting off to respective positions, while Petro gave Trilla one last look before heading in himself.

Cere paced to the old communicator built into the bunker wall and powered it on, the old machine taking a few moments to warm itself up. Trilla didn't move from where she stood, keeping her green eyes fixed on the hatch they had come from.

Her master sighed. "What is it, Trilla?" she asked, still looking at the machine.

She grumbled to herself, turning away from the hatch and looking to Cere. "Those men are going to _die_."

"Not if we do what we've practiced, Trilla. We just need time to-,"

"We don't _have_ any time, Master!" Trilla cut her off, swiping her hand through the air. "You saw them out there. They're…," she paused, seeing that Cere still had her attention on the machine. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"I _am_ liste-,"

"It's always the same with you!" Trilla yelled, her fist balled and back arched forward. "Always pretending like you know what's best for everyone!"

"Trilla-,"

"I am _tired_ of shouting into a black hole!"

"Trilla!" Cere silenced her, finally turning her way. "I am sending out a distress call. If we leave this bunker, we _all_ die. Our best chance is to call for help, and wait for reinforcements to arrive," she explained, and Trilla straightened herself, returning to her crossed-arms stance. "Go check on the younglings while I finish this," she said, returning her attention to the machine.

The Jedi Padawan snorted and annoyedly walked down the tunnel, leaving her master to her work.

"This is Jedi Master Cere Junda, calling on all Republic channels. We are under attack and need immediate assistance. We have younglings in danger. I repeat-,"

* * *

**Ossus Orbit, 19 BBY**

_**Demeter**_

The attack sirens blared across the bridge as Jedi Master Mace Windu struggled to make out the transmission playing before him, its static making the task all but impossible. Every officer was moving, either at their stations or running to them.

"_…imme…ce…ave…nger_," the transmission played.

"I need this cleaned up!" he shouted to the deck officer over the commotion.

The clone officer dressed in a Republic naval uniform fumbled with the holotable controls. "I'm trying, General. It's an older signal!"

Mace grumbled to himself.

"Get our fighters out there, now!" Commodore Reyna Vorchenko commanded, the captain of the _Demeter_, as she reached the holotable with him. "General, it's going to take time for us to break through the blockade. The Separatists are here in full force."

"Just keep us in the fight, Commodore," Mace replied, still waiting for the transmission to clear. "I'll worry about getting us to the surface."

"_…ounglings in danger…,_"

"Sir! I think I have it!" the deck officer exclaimed.

"Put us through!"

The image solidified, and Mace's eyes widened at the image. "Master Junda…Master Junda we read you!" he answered as the ship rocked from an impact.

"_Master Windu! Oh, thank the Force,_" she breathed, her expression looking somewhat panicked. "_We are under attack and need immediate assistance. We have younglings here, but we're pinned down by advancing Separatist forces._"

Mace's grip tightened on the edge of the table. "Are you and the younglings safe?"

"_For now. My Padawan and I are hidden in the underground passageways, but I don't know for how much longer_," she explained. "_We're going to need help quickly_."

Mace looked to Vorchenko. "Commodore. How long until we can break through?"

She gave him a grim look. "I can do my best, but we'd be better off sending in an extraction team to run the blockade."

He nodded. "Cere. Hold tight. I'm going to send a team in to get you out. Send me your coordinates."

"_Already sent_," she promptly replied. "_Thank you, Master Windu_."

Mace tipped his head and cut the transmission, now moving to his wrist-comm. "Eon, come in!"

He replied within a moment. "_Yes, Master?_"

"Assemble a team. You're going to run the blockade."

* * *

**Ossus, 19 BBY**

**Catacombs**

Trilla was _trying_ to stay positive, especially since the younglings could feel her emotions, whether they knew they were hers or not. To be frustrated would mean _they_ would become frustrated, and young minds like that soon resorted to tears and fear to alleviate that frustration. Since her ears certainly weren't all for listening to stricken wails from children, she found it prudent to at least set an example.

Even if Cere was driving her _crazy_.

If there was anything Trilla hated more than most, it was being forced to rely on someone else for her own success. She could trust people, sure, but she was not one to put her own fate all in their hands, and at least wanted a say in the matter.

Right now, their safety rested on a lone extraction team against a Separatist blockade. No, Cere hadn't told her that, but Trilla was good at detecting when her Master was lying to her, better than probably Cere was comfortable with. The fact that she had tried to shield Trilla from the grim truth, a nineteen-year-old Jedi, felt insulting all on its own. Trust between her and her master was becoming to be a bit of a premium these days.

The ground shook, and dirt fell from atop the darkly lit bunker, and a human girl no older than seven clung to Trilla's waist as they sat together.

"Trilla…what's happening?" the girl shivered.

"It's _alright_, Amelia," she soothed, holding the girl tight. "We're going to be fine."

Another _boom_ shook the bunker, and more dust fell atop them all. "I'm scared," Amelia whimpered.

Trilla brushed her brown hair with her fingers, trying her best to calm the child. "No one is going to hurt you, I promise."

While the other younglings were in similar states, Petro paced around the bunker, fidgeting with his lightsaber. She could sense great determination, as well as annoyance at inaction…just as she felt, but she was far better at hiding it.

"There has to be something we can do," he finally said, turning to Trilla. "We can't just sit here."

She wanted to agree with him, but to do so would only entice his rebellious attitude, and that wouldn't help _anyone_.

"We have our orders, Petro," Trilla answered, still holding on to Amelia. "We must stay put."

"But we can fight, we're Jedi!" he pressed.

"Right now, we need to stay _alive_," she retorted, not even fully believing her own words. "That is the best we can do."

Petro groaned and crossed his arms, his emotions pouring over. "If Master Eon were here, we'd be fighting, not _hiding_."

Trilla paused, now keeping her full attention on Petro. "Master Eon…you mean _Xur_ Eon?"

He nodded feverishly. "Yeah! Instead of hiding from a bunch of pirates, we took the fight to _them_, and we won! This time isn't any different…,"

Trilla had stopped listening to him by then, her mind drifting elsewhere. _Xur Eon_. That was a name she hadn't heard from another in a _long_ time. The fact that Petro had seen him, and also _spent_ time with him, elicited a feeling unbecoming of her Jedi training, but it was there, nonetheless.

"What was he like?" she asked, interrupting whatever statement he was in the middle of.

All of a sudden Petro puffed out his chest, seemingly proud that he was graced with the pleasure of meeting such a "famous war hero".

If only the young boy _knew_.

"Master Eon is great! We're friends you know. He helped me build my lightsaber correctly," he gloated.

Trilla deadpanned. "You needed help to build your lightsaber?"

Petro paused. "_Well_," he blushed, scratching his head. "No, no I built it myself! I just inverted my…what was it?"

"Emitter matrix?" Trilla answered monotonously.

"Yeah, yeah that thing!" he pointed, and again scratched his head, chuckling to himself.

_This fucking kid._

"How did this conversation become about _you_, and not him?" Trilla asked, still comforting Amelia.

"Sorry," Petro apologized. "I just…I just want to be just like him. Cutting down droids, scaring pirates with my lightsaber, saving my partner at every turn."

Part of her sank. "Who was his partner?"

Petro shrugged. "Well, I don't know if they were _partners,_ but they seemed like really good friends."

Trilla narrowed her eyes with impatience. "Petro. _Who?_"

"Ahsoka," he finally answered. "Padawan Tano."

Now her _heart_ sank.

"We rescued her from the pirates who attacked us. They also dueled General Grievous all on their own! It was amazing!"

She didn't share his elite enthusiasm in the slightest, and once again Petro's voice was slowly tuned out. All this time, _no_ communication with her, and yet here he was spending time with another woman, taking on _General Grievous_ together, which _certainly_ meant they had some kind of connection. How deep…wasn't so clear.

Trilla shut her eyes. No. She was a _Jedi_, and jealously lead to anger, which was against everything she had been taught thus far. Besides, they had parted ways mutually, which meant it wasn't fair for her to…

_Stop lying to yourself Trilla._

She was upset. Best to accept it.

There was a much louder _boom_, and this time the entire bunker shook violently, eliciting screams from some of the younglings, as well as Amelia, and ending Petro's glorious storytelling. The dim lights flashed on and off for a few moments, until slowly returning to their previous brightness.

"What was that?" Petro asked.

"I…" Trilla paused. "…don't know."

Cere finally reappeared from the entrance passage to the bunker, her robes ruined from intense exposure to the red dirt of Ossus. After taking a few heavy breaths, she spotted Trilla and immediately walked her way. "I've sealed the entrances. We're safe for now."

"For how long?" Trilla questioned.

Cere sighed heavily, still catching her breath. "Trilla…"

She nearly continued her onslaught of displeasure, but the look on her master's face was a desperate plea of cooperation, and she could sense that she was only doing the best she could. Trilla bit back her tongue and held Amelia a little tighter.

"I'll…watch over the younglings, Master," she offered.

Cere straightened herself, projecting relief in the Force. "It's been a long day. You should get some rest."

Trilla's eyes paced away, before returning to Cere. "You need it more than I do. I'll take first watch."

Her master wanted to protest, but Trilla knew she had spoken the truth. Cere desperately needed time to center herself, as well as to heal her tiring body.

"Alright, Trilla," Cere agreed. "If you need me, don't hesitate to come get me."

Trilla nodded. "I will."

As her master paced away, reassuring the other younglings of their safety, Amelia hugged Trilla tighter, and the Jedi padawan sighed to herself.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**Ossus Orbit, 19 BBY**

_**Demeter**_

"We'll come around and meet you here, on the far side of the catacombs, where we can extract the younglings and take them to a more secure location, away from the main combat areas. From there, we can take the gunship back to the front, rendezvous with General Windu, and start pushing back the Separatist advance," Captain Raven pointed at the displayed holomap, standing beside Xur as an astromech projected it before them. It was admittedly difficult to hear inside the bustling hangar bay, battle sirens blaring for fighters to begin takeoff sequences.

"Hell of a plan," Xur noted, jabbing his old friend with his elbow.

"Come on General, when have I ever let you down?" he assured, preparing to slide his helmet back over his head, his stubble and goatee roughly shaved and cleaned up. "It's going to be like Teth all over again."

Xur scoffed. "Let's hope not. Our gunship got totaled."

"_Yeah_," Raven conceded, his helmet projecting his voice. "But we still got everyone out alive, didn't we?"

The zabrak chuckled. "That we did," he said, and then clasped hands with the Captain. "See you down there."

"That you will," Raven then turned towards the assembled men, gearing them up to enter the gunship, while Xur hopped into the Jedi fighter that the astromech was plugged in to. It gave him a few beeps and whistles as he initiated the startup sequence.

"Minimal autopilot, actually," Xur corrected as the ship warmed up. "No offense to you, of course, but I'd like your focus on diverting power to the engines. We're going to need all the speed we can get."

The astromech trilled in warning.

"I'd like you to do what I ask," Xur denied, but eventually thought better of it. "Tell you what, if I need a route calculated, I'll let you know."

The blast shield lowered over the cockpit, and Xur activated the repulsor lifts. "Calling all wings, this is Green Leader."

Green One through Four called in.

"You know the drill, protect the gunship and stay packed in. We need to get them in fast and quiet. Once we're through, all wings provide air support to our boys down there while I assist the ground team, clear?"

"We hear you, General," Green One replied.

"Good to hear. All wings, prepare for takeoff."

* * *

**Ossus, 19 BBY**

**Catacombs**

Trilla's eyes flashed open again, greeted to the distant _booms_ that rumbled the bunker. Instantly they began to sting, and she wiped them clear of crimson dirt with her already filthy hand, which in turn only made it worse. Desperately and annoyedly, she wiped her hand on her leather gauntlet and tried again, this time with more success.

She had dozed off during her shift, and her eyelids were only getting heavier the longer she sat in her spot, looking over the sleeping younglings. Healing trances could replenish her energy, but she only found herself falling asleep in the process.

Meaning she'd have to tough it out.

Amelia was fast asleep, still leaning on the Padawan for support, and Trilla could only observe her with a hint of jealousy. Even _Petro_ had found it in him to get some sleep.

She ran her hand through her matted hair, pulling loose strands out of her face and sniffed, trying to keep the noise down, but also trying to find something to pass the time.

_Huuuumm._

Trilla's head darted to where she thought the noise originated, her hand on her hilt, but saw nothing…and sensed nothing as well. Brushing it off, she returned her gaze to the younglings.

_Huuuumm._

It was distant…not within the bunker…but a plea…almost like a call through the Force.

_Huuuumm._

A call for _help._

She'd had enough. She had tried it her master's way, but now the situation had changed. It was time to act.

Lying Amelia down where she sat without waking her, Trilla stepped carefully between the younglings, doing her best to keep her sound contained through the Force. She mulled telling her master…but she knew what she'd say. She'd tell her to wait here regardless, and that was no longer an option to her.

Sneaking through and to a side passage, she followed the _hum_ down the tunnel, trying to focus her senses on only it, which was tougher than usual with the chaos happening above. However, with enough persistence, she homed in long enough to reach the end of a passage, where a hatch was above. Calming her mind, she reached out and heard the hatch slowly turn.

Her hilt was in her hand as she turned towards a surge in her senses, and her yellow blade illuminated the passageway. When she looked down, Petro was standing there, his smaller hilt in hand.

She grumbled. "Petro, what are you doing here?" Trilla asked, extinguishing her blade. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that. You could've been hurt."

The young boy shrugged. "I figured you needed help."

Trilla shook her head and pointed down the passage. "Go back, _now_."

He stood his ground, and her patience was beginning to be tested. "I'll just tell Master Junda that you left…unless you take me with you."

She scoffed. "Oh? You'd snitch on me? Not very manly of you, Petro. Whatever would Master Eon say?"

Petro raised his finger in protest but seemed to realize he didn't know what to say. "Walked right in to that one."

Trilla smiled, but then had an idea. "Tell you what. You can't come with me, _but_," she pulled a commlink from her pouch and handed it to the youngling on one knee. "If I need help, I'll contact you."

He took the commlink and sighed. "Alright."

She stood. "Now, _go back_, and yes, I'll _know_ if you're following me."

After a moment, Petro eventually did as he was told, turning back down the passage that lead to the bunker. With a quiet sigh of relief once he was out of sight, Trilla looked back to the hatch and forced it open, pushing outwards with an outstretched hand. Jumping acrobatically with a flip, she landed on both feet. The sudden reappearance of wind and airflow caused her to stumble for a moment, but she quickly recovered, making sure to close the hatch tightly, the squeals of old metal making her cringe.

Free of the catacombs, she finally got a look at her surroundings. Close by was a tree line where a forest began, but in the far distance she could see the brilliant explosions illuminate the night sky, Separatist spider walkers towering above.

Too much _noise_.

She took a deep, lung-filling breath, and exhaled, silencing all distractions, all senses of pain and suffering; feeling through the dirt, the grass, the ruffling of branches in the wind. She felt life, harmony, the age of the air, constructions lost to the dirt over millennia, decay making way for new life on the planet.

There it was.

_Huuuumm._

Into the forest, commotion built, wildlife scurrying away from an extraterrestrial object, fleeing from what it left behind. There was smoke, a starship burning…and its pilot…_dying_. The sound strengthened, and she _saw_ it, the pilot's wound, singing to her through the Force.

Her eyes opened, and she ran into the trees, crushing twigs under her boots as the ground went from dirt to grass, unfocused on the trail she left behind. The sound was _close_, she could feel it, but she also knew there was little time left. Whoever had piloted that starfighter, their life force was fading every moment she delayed.

Eventually she could see trees split like broken bones, and flames building where the crash had occurred. Picking up the pace, she sprinted to the sound, which was becoming a near deafening cry.

"I saw something!"

Trilla ducked behind a tree, hoping the B1 battle droid unit hadn't spotted her, and she did her best to calm her excessive breathing. Fighting off the sound for now, she peeked over.

"Your optics are malfunctioning. I can't see _anything_," another unit responded. "Keep moving. We're supposed to check out the crashed Jedi fighter."

"Roger, roger."

It was only a fireteam, probably a scout just to see if the fighter's pilot had survived the crash…and they had said _Jedi_ fighter. That only enhanced her pressing need to be where she was.

Her commlink blinked and chimed.

"Did you hear that?" a unit called.

Trilla stifled the device, shutting it off for now. "Dammit, Petro," she cursed through grit teeth.

"Are your audio receptors fried too?"

"I swear I heard something!"

"Get back to work. That's nothing!"

"Roger, roger."

The Jedi waited for a moment, listening for the metal feet of the droids to wander back towards the ship, before jumping behind tree to tree, keeping pace with them. Once she was close enough to the ship, she looked.

There was a Jedi, sitting beside the burning cockpit on the grass, his pain projected in the Force. The fireteam was making its round, one droid kicking at the metal.

"I don't see anyone," it said.

"Keep looking. I want to be sure."

"Roger, roger."

Silently, Trilla grabbed ahold of her hilt, waiting for the droid to come around the side of the crashed fighter. Her heartbeat slowed, and she began to build Force energy within her, feeling her entire body vibrate.

The yellow blade ignited.

"What the-," the droid cried, before it was cut down at its torso in an instant, Trilla ripping through the air at an impossible speed.

"Ah! It's a Jedi! Blast her!" the commanding droid shouted and opened fire, only to see each of its fired bolts deflected with ease. Trilla advanced, sidestepping by the stray shots whilst charging forward, swinging her saber through two of the droids, leaving only the last.

"Uh oh…uh oh!" the droid cried before she cut its head clean off, letting the metal bodies flop onto the grass. With a calming inhale, she deactivated her blade and returned it to her belt.

"The…the _hell_?" the Jedi croaked from his spot, his voice sounding hoarse.

Trilla jogged to him. "I heard your call. I came to-," she froze.

Xur Eon, the man she hadn't seen since he had left for Geonosis three years ago, was panting beside his wrecked fighter, crimson blood covering his robes and his armor…with a piece of the ship protruding from the side of his stomach. Her eyes widened, absolutely horrified at the sight before her.

"Hey, Trilla," he coughed heavily, trying to smile. "I've looked better…I know."

She fell to her knees, fumbling with his clothing as she tried to assess his wounds. "What the hell happened to you?!" she asked, moving desperately.

"Master Windu…said there were younglings," he coughed and wheezed between phrases, mixed with pained grunts as she touched injured areas. "I was to lead the…extraction team…didn't go so great," he chuckled.

"Stop laughing! This isn't funny!" she pressed, her gaze snapping him out of his mood. "We've got to get this thing out of you."

"Trilla," he grunted as she touched the piece stuck in him.

"Let me-,"

"Trilla, stop!" he insisted, falling into another fit of coughs. "I've lost too much blood. If you pull that out of me, I'll lose the rest of it."

"I can help you!" she pressed, the sound she heard deafening by now, drawing her hand like opposite poles of a magnet. "There's a way."

"You _can't_ help me. Not like-,"

"Trust me!" she shouted, grabbing the wrist of the arm he used to hold her back. He paused, relaxing in her grip, and she used her blood-soaked free hand to touch his face. "Trust me. I _can_ save you." She projected confidence through the Force, and she felt his defenses waver, and eventually fall, his eyes shutting closed as he weakened ever further.

"I…I trust you," he said in almost a whisper.

She tipped her head, fighting back an urge to cry at his near-death state, and wiped the blood from his forehead in an effort to comfort him. "This is going to hurt, and once it's out, I'm going to heal you."

"Heal…me?" he questioned, not noticing that she had wrapped her hand around the piece. "You mean like _AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!_" he screamed, echoing through the night as Trilla ripped it out of his body.

In that moment, Trilla focused on the exposed wound, fighting past the gruesome image of his exposed guts, and allowed her hand to hover above it. She breathed, letting the Force flow through her like a conduit, the warmth of the light ripping through the cold of death leaning over the zabrak. Projecting her own life force, her hand glowed, and she transferred it to him. His skin regrew over itself, his internals realigning in their proper places. Infection dissipated and died; his blood revitalized by the power she placed within him.

His wound closed, and she collapsed atop him, her energy spent, catching herself with both hands on the dirt.

Xur looked on in shock, his life-threatening wound erased from his body.

"Trilla…I've," he stammered, running his fingers over his rebuilt skin as she picked herself back up. "I've only heard stories of Jedi being able to do this…h-how…?"

"It's not a universal power," she explained, running her thumb over her blood-covered hand. "It's a rare ability. You have to be born with it, and…I was."

The zabrak was shaking off how stunned he was, but he found it in himself to at least smile. "I always knew you were…special," he said, before coughing again, his life saved, but his body far from healed entirely.

Unable to resist any longer, she collapsed into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, not caring if his still exposed blood stained her robes. "I've missed you," she confessed.

He grunted but placed his hand on the back of her head, and she sensed his own happiness at the sight of her in the Force. "I'm sorry it's been so long," he apologized, and she still didn't let up her grip. "There's so much I want to tell you."

"All this time…they wouldn't tell me if you were still alive," she said, slowly letting him go. "I just fought through every day, hoping Republic headlines didn't have a section on the passing of another 'Great Jedi Hero'."

Xur scoffed. "Great Jedi Hero, huh? They don't really paint me like that do they?"

She smiled. "Sometimes…but I know better. I knew you were out there…trying to make this galaxy a better place…for _all_ of us."

He only offered her a half smile at that, his head slowly turning away, and she felt uncertainty within him. "Doesn't feel like it's working, honestly."

Trilla frowned and felt inclined to grab ahold of his closest hand, which she did. His eyes paced over to her, without the comfort she remembered. "It is."

"You don't know what I've done, Trilla," he looked down, his hand limp in her grip. "I'm not a hero."

"You are to me," she leaned in, trying to break into him once again, but to no avail. In her flattering answer, she felt…_embarrassment_ surge within him, as if what she had said made him _uncomfortable._ She was only trying to make him happy, just as how elated she was to lay eyes on him again…but he was ravaged by conflicting emotions every time he laid eyes upon her, like he was _unsure_ he should even be speaking to her.

Her hand slid from his weak grip.

He finally looked at her, his eyes on her arms. "Did you make these yourself?" he pointed at her leather gauntlets, stained with blots of crimson, avoiding what she had been saying. "They're nice."

"Who's Ahsoka Tano?" she asked, fed up with his dodging.

_There_ it was.

The zabrak paused, his eyes unable to meet hers, and he eventually shrugged. "Anakin's Padawan."

Trilla's eyes shut, and her head turned away, fighting back an urge to react emotionally. "How long have you known her?"

"Trilla-,"

"How long?" she asked, more firmly this time.

He sighed. "Two years."

She huffed, stunned, turning back to look at him. "_Two years_? You've been running around the galaxy with another woman for two fucking years?"

"Oh, for fuck sake Trilla."

"After _all_ that 'I've got a galaxy to save' talk, and 'we're going in different directions', you've got the _fucking_ nerve to run off with someone else, and not hold _her_ to the same standards?!"

"That's not fair, and you know it!" he pointed, wincing in pain. "How do you even know about her anyway?"

She crossed her arms, staring daggers into him. "There's a youngling with us, about nine or ten, says you helped him with the Gathering."

Xur cringed and rubbed his eyes with his hand. "Fucking Petro strikes again."

"Yes. Blame your double standards on a poor boy."

"Give me a break! You think I _wanted_ to hurt you?"

Trilla shrugged. "How was I to know? You never reached out to me, _ever_. For all I knew you were _dead_! Why? Because you've been fighting a war?" she rolled her eyes.

"And what have _you_ been doing?" he shot back, and she paused. "Out here, in the middle of nowhere…how are _you_ contributing?"

The Jedi was too stunned by his insensitive comment to fire back, and she watched his infuriated face morph slowly into regret. He looked away. "Sorry…I didn't…I didn't mean that."

Part of her wanted to continue to barrage him, but she stopped herself, mostly ashamed that she had allowed her negative emotions to influence her to such a point that it would drive him to react in such a way.

"It's alright."

"No, it's not," he shook his head, and reached for her hand. "You're right…I should've at least tried to get in touch with you…but I didn't. I'm sorry."

She didn't accept it, but she raised both of hers in an easing manner. "Xur, I…wasn't thinking clearly," she admitted, and then rose to her feet. "Let's just…let's just get you back to the bunker. Master Junda is probably going to be rather cross with me."

* * *

"There's no answer, sir," ARC Trooper Mars relayed, his hand clasped on to the gunship overhead handle as it made another flyby. "Just static."

Captain Raven shook his head, maintaining his balance as turbulence shook them all. "_Hmmm_. That's not like him. Something must've happened. Lockdown, old buddy, can you check the system logs for his fighter?"

Lockdown was a Clone Commando, a division of the Republic's best troops by far, and his blue glowing visor was the last thing many droids ever saw before they were permanently deactivated. His armor was mostly a grey-white, but the various streaks and purple hues signified his commitment to the 502nd Legion, as he had served many times with them.

"One second," he said, activating his Multipurpose Augmented Holographic Interface, or MAHI, with the raising of his arm, and a blue-hued projected gauntlet appeared around his forearm. He tapped over the interface with his fingers, and it responded through implants, behaving like a touchscreen device despite the lack of a physical plane. It was a classified technology, experimental still, as it used Virtual Intelligence processors just to run the operating system…technically still illegal within the Republic…which meant only Commandos were equipped with such devices.

It made a direct link to the holonet, and within moments, he had the systems log displayed before him. _ALERT_, it read, all caps.

"_Yeah_, that's not good," Mars noted.

"His ship was shot down," Lockdown read. "Multiple hull breaches. Even the engines blew. Captain…I think-."

"He's fine," Raven dismissed. "We just need to do our job."

Both he and Mars nodded. "Copy that."

The pilot's intercom activated. "Approaching drop zone."

Raven brandished his DC-17 pistol. "We complete our directive, and he'll complete his. I know he will."

* * *

"Take it easy," Trilla urged, helping the injured zabrak over to the hatch leading back to the catacombs. Letting him stand for a moment, she knelt and turned the locking mechanism, pulling it open with a heave. While he had been weakened by injury, she herself was also haggled by exhaustion. "In here."

Xur grunted, and after a moment of mulling, he jumped in, but falling to his knees once his feet hit the dirt. She followed quickly, closing the hatch behind them and helping him back to his feet.

"_Careful_," she implored, pulling his arm back over her shoulders to help him walk. He had kept his arm across his chest, where she could hear the singing on fractured bones, but she was far too weak by now to do anything about it.

"Trilla," he wheezed, and her eyes met his. "Thank you…for this."

She looked away, refocusing on the path ahead…and spotted someone waiting in the middle, the weak lights barely making them visible.

"_Shit_," she cursed.

"Trilla!" Petro greeted, standing beside the much taller someone. "I thought you needed help, so I got Master Junda for you!"

The Padawan only gave Petro a tested look, before her gaze made its way over to her master, who had her arms crossed in frustration. "I see you've been _busy_," Cere noted. "Do you have any idea what you risked? I _specifically_ ordered you to watch over the younglings, and you deliberately disobeyed me."

"Master, it had nothing to do with-."

"If she hadn't left, Master Junda, I'd be dead," Xur cut in, and Cere's eyes locked on him. "Oh, I'm Xur-."

"I know who you are," she cut him off. "Master Windu didn't tell me he was sending _you_, just an extraction team."

Xur shrugged. "You're looking at it. I have no idea where the rest of my team is…or if they're even still alive," the sudden realization hit him harder than he expected. "My ship crashed, and Trilla found me. She saved my life."

Cere and Trilla locked glances, and while she could sense that her master was still upset with her, the reasoning was sound enough for her to lose some of her aggravation. "How did you even find him?"

Trilla swallowed. "I…could hear his wound…sing to me, I guess. I followed it until I found him."

"How bad was it?" She asked.

Her eyes wandered to him, and Xur pointed to the gouging tear in his robes. "I was able to heal him in time," she revealed.

Cere gave them both a look, and eventually sighed. "I don't like that you left without telling me…but if you did it to save him…then I guess I can't fault you for that."

Trilla's head drooped. "Thank you, Master."

"Come on," Cere flicked her head. "Let's get you two patched up."

* * *

Water poured onto the dirt from the wrung-out towel, its clear shine ruined by clots of crimson blood. The formerly white towel fared no better, but Trilla's hands were finally cleared. Shutting off the running water, and tossing the cloth aside, she leaned over the sink, probing her own eyes in the tunneled mirror. In all honesty, she still looked dreadful…and she felt like death.

"He's out," Cere said, entering the side room Trilla currently occupied. "He badly needs rest. The amount of blood he's lost…it's a wonder he's still alive."

That's not what she wanted to hear. "I'm going to try again. Maybe I can heal the rest of him."

"Trilla, you can't," Cere insisted. "When you use your power, it comes at a cost of yourself. Life cannot be created out of thin air…it has to come from somewhere, and right now you're too weak."

Dejectedly, Trilla sighed. "When I see him in pain…it…," she paused, turning to face her master. "It hurts _me_."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," she admitted, approaching her. "But there is such a thing as reckless generosity. We may be Jedi…but sometimes sacrificing ourselves only endangers those we try to protect. Sometimes it's better for us to press on and accept the way things are."

"So to protect the younglings, I should've let him _die_?" Trilla questioned.

"No. I'm saying that you've done everything in your power to help him, and now it's time to ensure your own wellbeing. You've still got a job to do."

It wasn't what Trilla wanted to accept, but she could sense the truth in her master's words. Despite her worry, she knew Xur could take care of himself, and now she had to make sure those under her protection remained safe.

But he was _hurt_, and she had the power to make it go away.

"Be mindful of your feelings, Trilla," Cere interrupted her thought process. "Remember what we talked about…years ago."

"I understand my _place_," Trilla seethed, annoyed that her master had the nerve to bring it up.

"_Padawan_…" Cere warned, until Petro appeared at the doorway.

"Master Junda! The team is here!" he called.

"What _team_?"

"Master Eon's team…three clones. They found us!"

Cere left her Padawan behind, rushing quickly back into the bunker's main room, and sure enough there were three heavily dressed clone troopers with the assembled younglings.

"General Junda," one of them greeted, presenting himself as if he was in charge. "I'm Captain Raven. General Windu sent us here to extract you."

Trilla had never seen such heavily outfitted troopers before. She was used to mainly escort and front-line infantry…but these were certainly special forces. Never before had she witnessed such state-of-the-art tech hanging from each of them, and their presence inspired a bit of safety within her.

"Is this all of you?" Cere asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Raven nodded. "This is Lockdown and Mars. We're the best in the regiment. We'll get you all out safely, I promise."

Relief found its way to her master, and Trilla felt it transfer into her. "That's good to hear. We've got six younglings and a Jedi injured, Xur Eon."

Raven's stance shuddered. "The General? He's here?"

"Yes," Trilla stepped in, just in front of her master. "I can show you to him. Follow me."

"Right," Cere nodded. "In the meantime, I'll prepare the younglings, then we can formulate a strategy for getting out of here."

"Copy that. Mars, assist her," he ordered, pulling the ARC troopers attention from the youngling he was kneeling to, reassuring them, and he nodded in compliance. "Lockdown, with me. We might need that MAHI of yours."

While Cere broke off with Mars, Trilla lead Raven and Lockdown to another side room where they had Xur laid out on a cot, out cold for now.

"You must be her Padawan," Raven deducted as they stepped into the room. "Suduri, right?"

She nodded. "Yes. Trilla Suduri. How did you know?"

"You mean aside from mission logs?" Raven continued as they came up to his side. "General Eon brings you up every now and then."

Her arms crossed and she stepped aside, allowing Lockdown to reveal his holographic gauntlet and begin a scan. "What does he say?"

"Nothing but good things," Lockdown answered for his captain, focused on the medical readouts displayed on his MAHI.

Trilla swallowed, wishing she had a shell to crawl in to avoid the embarrassment of her previous assumption about him. Now it was hard to look at him, sprawled out on the cot as he desperately tried to heal himself through the old Jedi trance, knowing that she had only given him a hard time when he most likely didn't deserve it.

"Eh, sorry Commander," Raven apologized. "None of our business."

She gave him a funny look.

"You're a Padawan, aren't you? That makes you a Commander."

Trilla raised her hands defensively. "Commander? But I've never been in any real battles…I'm not sure I'm deserving of such a title."

Raven shrugged as the scan ended. "Maybe, maybe not. What's the sit rep, Lockdown?"

The Commando sighed. "Not great. He's alive, but his vitals are weaker than usual. I'm reading a loss of a lot of blood…in all honesty I'm not sure _how_ he's still breathing."

Trilla stepped forward, pointing to the tear in his robe. "A piece of his fighter was stuck in him, here. In order to save him, I had to remove it and…close the wound myself."

Lockdown cocked his head. "How did you manage that?"

She considered explaining it but thought better. "Jedi thing."

"_Ah_," both clones recognized in unison.

Raven crossed his arms, his helmet aimed at the commando. "Is there anything you can do?"

"Nothing that they haven't already done. We need to get him out of here, though…and soon."

Xur stirred on the cot, one hand finding its way to his forehead. "Why is it so loud…," he paused once his eyes opened. "Raven, Lockdown. Shit, am I glad to see you."

Trilla's eyes glanced away, her arms crossing.

"Good to see you alive, General," Raven greeted. "We're here to get you out of here."

His eyes narrowed as he tried to rise. "Weren't _we_ the ones-," he grunted heavily, clasping his ribs as he winced.

"Careful!" Trilla urged, trying to ease him back down. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I'm _fine_," he insisted, attempting to fight her only to find more internal pain.

"The Commander's right, General," Lockdown helped her ease him back onto the cot. "You shouldn't be moving."

The zabrak chuckled to himself, looking over to Trilla. "_Commander_, huh?"

She glared his way. "Don't sound so surprised."

He snorted. "I was just kidding, Trilla."

It was hardly amusing to her. Besides their previous heated conversation when she pulled him from the wreckage of his own starfighter, how easily he was taking his clearly horrid condition was driving her insane. She still couldn't get the image of his guts pouring from his stomach out of her head, and the more he pressed himself, the more she felt that her effort to save him would be in vain.

He felt like _her_ responsibility.

"Captain," Mars chimed in from the entrance, his head peaking over. "I've got some bad news."

Raven shrugged. "Is there any other kind? Give it to me."

"The Republic front line has broken. Droids are marching here as we speak," he reported. "Although, General Windu reports that they have nearly breached the blockade, and then he'll be able to send support, but until then, we'll have to hold off the droids."

"_Hold_ _off_ the droids?" Trilla gasped. "How are we supposed to do that?"

"The droids will be swarming every hatch," Raven pondered. "But we're in close quarters…so lightsabers and bombs are our friends."

"Hold on with the explosives, big guy," Lockdown warned. "We don't want to be rearranging architecture _this_ old. Might end up burying ourselves with the rest of ancient history."

"Then we fight our way out," Xur stated, more in the tone of an order, and not a suggestion. "Lockdown, you've got to have something to get me moving again."

"Absolutely _not_," Trilla denied. "We're not risking your life."

His eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, _Commander?_ I don't know if you've noticed, but _I_ outrank you, so don't start barking orders at-."

"In any given battlefield, protocol states that the senior General's command supersedes all others, _except_ the chief medical officer's when faced with the question of a soldier's health, _even_ their own," Trilla explained. "Now, since _no one_ here is a medical officer, the one most qualified to fit the role is _me_, is it not?"

"That's not how it-."

"No? Secondary protocol states that in the event that a fireteam becomes stranded and their chief medic is either not present or KIA, the next most qualified in the group assumes the role _and_ privileges, as to avoid any reckless endangerment of one's troops."

There was a moment of silence, before Xur's eyes paced to Raven, who eventually nodded. "That checks out…General."

"Anyhow, Sir," Lockdown sighed. "If she really did what she explained…maybe you should just consider what she has to say."

The zabrak paused for a moment, and Trilla could feel his tenacity wavering, which she no doubt admired, but she couldn't bear to see him die, no matter how she felt about him currently.

"Fine," he accepted, and a part of her finally relaxed. "I'll…remain here…Captain, if you could just fill me in on the plan, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course, Sir."

With sporadic nods, everyone filed out of the room, Trilla staying just behind. She was about to follow them out to leave him be, but she stopped herself…and eventually gestured, closing the door shut.

"Listen, I know how you feel about this…but it's what's best for you," Trilla assured.

Xur seethed inside, shaking his head and turning away. "What do you want from me, Trilla?"

She tried not to react to his question harshly, but her frustration with him reached a fever. "Can't you understand I'm looking out for you?" she questioned, and when he didn't look back to her, she growled. "I don't know _what_ has happened to you. Your dogged persistence to be the _hero_ of everything is _infuriating_."

"I'm not the same Jedi you once knew, Trilla," Xur answered, finally turning her way. "Alright, you got to war, you form bonds with people. It's rather easy when you're in the trenches _bleeding_ with them. At first, it's not so bad…you get to _see_ the galaxy, explore countless worlds, and _every_ day, you're getting stronger…but then," he paused, looking as if he was losing himself in memories. "Then your men start dying…your _friends_ start dying. I have some nights where…where I can't even look myself in the mirror, because with all this power, all this _potential_…the reality sets in."

He leaned over the cot, seemingly ignoring his pain. "You can never do _enough_. You could always save one more man, end the battle a day or two earlier…but you have to make sacrifices…and I don't know about you, but I'd rather _die_ than _live_ knowing I didn't do _enough_."

"Xur, if you're convinced you can never do enough, then you'll _never_ be satisfied. That's not a way to live, not for anyone," she answered, and then found herself remembering her master's own words. "There is such a thing as reckless generosity."

Xur was silent for a moment, and she felt he was considering her words, which surprised her, before eventually letting out a sigh. "Maybe you're right."

Trilla silently thanked Cere for that one.

Neither of them had anything to say, and she took that as her cue to leave him alone. "I'll…help prepare the others."

As she approached the door, Xur called out. "Thank you, Trilla…for everything."

When she turned, she only graced him with a half-smile, and left him to prepare for the long night ahead.

* * *

**Zeffo, 14 BBY**

**Abandoned Settlement**

Cal Kestis looked across to Xur, dressed in filthy Inquisitor garments, his expression dimmed as he finished speaking.

"Did you make it out?" he asked.

His blue eyes were fixed on the old rug that occupied the floor of the abandoned home, seized from its previous occupants by the Empire to continue Project Auger. Cal had been able to determine that it once housed a family of four through his psychometry ability…but now it served as their safehouse for the night as they continued their long journey back to the _Mantis_.

"We did. I didn't even have to do much. I suggested having the younglings help with dispatching the droids, but Cere wouldn't have it." Xur answered. "I didn't say it to her then, but Trilla was _brilliant_. She strategically placed detonite charges that collapsed all major passageways, funneling the droids into kill boxes for their small team to easily take care of. We were able to hold out, and Master Windu pushed through and extracted us," he then chuckled to himself, his eyes still fixed on the floor. "She looked like hell by the end, but I was…proud of her. Both of us spent time in the medical bay of the _Demeter_…those were…good times."

Cal sighed. "I'm…sorry."

"It is what it is, kid," he shook his head.

The former Padawan paused, wondering if he should even ask, but felt it necessary for his own perspective. "What was she like…back then?"

Xur's eyes shut, and Cal instantly regretted asking, but he got his answer.

"Better than anything I ever deserved."

* * *

**TIE Interceptor, 14 BBY**

**Leaving Zeffo**

Trilla's eyes watched the stars as she left Zeffo behind, left only to the cold darkness of space, and the chilling soundless vacuum that accompanied it. Her gloved hands were wrapped around the flight stick, keeping her course for the ISD _Valkyrie_.

Ignoring the tear rolling down her face.

* * *

**I might extend the entire chapter on a later date, but it was becoming too long, and I felt I've given you enough insight on Trilla's previous life. This was fun! I had a lot of creative freedom, especially with her gear and what she was capable of since there is virtually nothing on her life as a Padawan as of now. I also tried to fix a plot hole with the whole "force healing" power, making it like psychometry instead of a power any Jedi can use.**

**Thanks for reading! Next chapter, we go back to the current tale!**


	10. Double Vision

**CHAPTER 7**

Double Vision

"You need a little bit of insanity to do great things."

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious**

"So, he's alive," the Grand Inquisitor mused, quietly laughing to himself. "I'm almost impressed."

Trilla was not feeling so amused. The zabrak's reemergence had not only wrestled Cal Kestis from her grasp, but also ripped open patched wounds within her that she had thought were long healed. For a time, she had control of her hatred, anger, and emotions in general, masterfully maintaining the upper hand against all of her adversaries…and then one man subverts her knowledge, and before long she had lost all control. Totally unbalanced.

She kept her arms crossed as the Grand Inquisitor continued to pace his chambers, his gloved hand running along his chin.

"How could he have possibly orchestrated something so…_intricate_?" he questioned, rhetorically, she figured. "The resources and knowledge necessary to achieve such a deceptive feat…amongst _inquisitors_ no less…masterful _indeed_."

Trilla was becoming disgusted. "He has joined with the Jedi, Cal Kestis, and his companions. We have a few leads on their next destination."

"You have _leads_," the Grand Inquisitor echoed, pacing back to his personal chair and taking a seat. "Second Sister, it is quite apparent to me that Xur Eon is out of your _league_."

For him to say something so…_blasphemous_…it was difficult for Trilla not to lash out then and there. "Ridiculous. I know him far better-,"

"Xur Eon not only bested you once, but _twice_, according to this report. He inspired half of your own personal squad to _defect_ from your command, thwarted your attempts to capture Cal Kestis, not to mention the fact that you never beat him in this very _training_ _dojo_ when he was certainly _holding back_," he listed off his fingers. "I believe I can say with _finality_ that Eon not only has the upper hand but seems to know _you_ better than you know _yourself_."

She seethed, but she only looked away with no comment of defense.

He shook his head. "I am not going to dispose of your talents on an obvious suicide assignment. You will continue to track Kestis, yes, but Xur Eon will be the responsibility of another."

"Grand Inquisitor, I insist you reconsider," Trilla nearly plead, desperately desiring revenge. "I am the best equipped of all _inquisitors_ to deal with him. You even said it yourself before," she leaned in, her hands planted on his desk. "_I'm_ the best you've got."

"The words of a foolish girl, who has overstepped her bounds, and now drowns in her own failure."

Trilla's teeth grit and she turned to the new voice, greeted to the towering image of the First Sister; a diabolical and ancient _hag_ whose time had long passed. Her mask covered whatever wrinkled features remained of the dying vermin before her, and her dark hood covered the rest of her head entirely.

"Insult my name again, _hag_, and we shall see who is the _foolish_ one," Trilla threatened.

"Your threats are as empty as your soul, _slave_," she spat. "They will only lead you to your own ruin."

"Sisters, please," the Grand Inquisitor urged, his hands raised, and Trilla at least turned back to him. "The First Sister will be taking control of the hunt for Xur Eon."

Trilla stepped towards him in a fit of rage. "That is _insane_."

"It is not _my_ decree, Sister."

She paused, halting dead in her tracks, and her rage dissipated. The world collapsed around her, and she was back in that moment…back in that _place_. Her legs began to tremble, her mind unfocused, clouded…

Clouded by _fear_.

Trilla swallowed. "I see. I-If that is what is decided…"

"Good," he smiled, tipping his head. "If we are understood, then you are dismissed, Second Sister."

Trilla tipped her head in a bow, and left his chambers, not paying any mind to the First Sister as she passed.

She needed to get away from _here_.

* * *

**Zeffo, 14 BBY**

**Landing Pad**

Cal ascended the loading ramp of the _Mantis_, weary and desperate for a place to rest. After nearly a day of travel, and also without proper channels, it had taken his Jedi resolve to fight through the raging emotions within him.

Once he saw Cere, he found himself nearly bursting.

"Cal, you're alive," she greeted, meeting him as he stepped inside the ship. "We've been without comms this whole time; I feared the worst."

He said nothing, and BD took the chance to hop off his back and scuttle away, its power cells drained. Greez waltzed past the droid, leaving the smell of food behind in the kitchen.

"Hey, kid," he smiled, chuckling to himself. "Had a moment there…you know…thought you might be dead."

"I'm fine," Cal assured, not sharing the enthusiasm, and the footsteps behind him brought about shocked looks from his two companions.

Cere reached for his shoulder. "Cal, behind y-,"

"It's _alright_, Cere. He's with us," Cal eased, stepping aside to reveal the red-skinned zabrak, his inquisitor gear drenched and soiled with dirt and greenery, not to mention his black hair that was beginning to shag. "This is-,"

"I know who he is," Cere stopped him, her eyes locked on the man who didn't look as enthusiastic to see her, which was mutual.

"Master Junda," Xur greeted, keeping himself behind Cal.

"Eon," she said back, and the two of them kept their gazes upon each other, the distrust projecting itself through the Force…which Cal assumed she could no longer feel, but…who knew anymore.

"He helped me survive the Imperial ambush, and…held off the Second Sister for me," Cal explained, and Cere's unease became more apparent. "But not before she and I had a chat."

The former Jedi Master looked away, and the anxiety within her rose by the minute. "What did she tell you?"

"The truth," Xur answered for him, and stepped forward, past Cal. "Did you _betray_ her? Don't lie to me."

"Hey, hey," Greez chimed in. "Look buddy, you look scary and all, but don't start wagging your dick out on my ship," he pointed, and Cal reached out, pushing the zabrak back.

"Let me handle this…please?" he asked, and Xur gave him one look, before crossing his arms and snorting in annoyance. Greez nodded to himself, feeling a bit of pride in his words.

"The Second Sister, or _Trilla_," Cal continued. "Told me you betrayed her to the Empire," he revealed. "Is it true?"

She sighed, turning away and walking towards the couch and table, and Cal's own annoyance only built with her inability to answer. "Cere, is it true?"

Cere took a moment, taking a seat and hunching over, before taking a deep breath. "Yes."

Cal paced forward, glad that Xur had held himself at bay for now. "Why?

Her eyes faded away, and he almost felt sorry for making her delve back into that moment, but he _needed_ the truth, and if she and Xur were going to get along, he did too.

"When I was captured by the Empire…I resisted," she explained, and Cal noticed Xur's distrustful feelings dissipate somewhat. "I swore to myself that I would _die_ before I would talk…but," she continued, and her fear suddenly spiked. "This dark shadow came…and he was worse than any nightmare I could've imagined."

Xur seethed and stepped away, looking towards the cockpit.

"But I still…_fought_," she recounted, the resistance she had given clear in her tone. "But in the end, I came apart…and I…gave them Trilla," Xur then turned to face her, and she shook her head. "And I know there is _nothing_ I can do to make that right. But Eon-."

"I was _there_, Cere," Xur stopped her. "You don't have to prove anything to me. It's…not your fault…not _entirely_."

"What do you mean you were _there_?" she questioned.

"You think I'm in this uniform…for _fun_?" he shrugged. "I faked my death and assumed the identity of the Second Brother after I had killed an inquisitor…who used to be an old friend of mine. A Jedi named Kaidan Alko."

Cere's head drooped. "I remember him."

"I swore that I would destroy the Inquisitorious, _no matter_ the cost, and the best way to do that was from the inside," he recounted, and then Cal sensed his emotional despair reach the boiling point. "But then…it was in the training dojo…when her helmet came off, and I saw her face…a _stranger_," he wheezed, eyes beginning to water. "Taking pride i-in _hurting_ people, and her _words_, each armed with daggers, cutting into your soul. Trilla…" he sniffled, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Trilla was _gone_…but I couldn't just…carry on. I felt like I had to _try_, that I at least owed it to her."

He scoffed, sniffling again. "Six months I was there…nothing changed. I _failed_."

"Xur, I…I know how you felt about her," Cere fighting her own emotions, better at it than the zabrak. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not…angry with you, Cere," he assured. "If you went through the same thing she did…then I can't hold you responsible…that's not reasonable…or fair."

Cal found it hard to even step in the moment, and Greez was only looking on, trying to avoid an awkward comment with a subject he couldn't understand. But, this _despair_, this hopelessness…it's what Tri…it's what the _Second Sister_ wanted, by using this to divide them when they _needed_ to stand together.

"Maybe there's still a chance," Cal suggested, and both of his broken companions looked up to him. "She can still let go of her hatred."

"I don't know, kid," Xur shook his head. "It's…rooted into her. I don't think she'll ever forgive Cere."

"Our whole journey here, I could sense _your_ anger with her, and while you may have an advantage at dissipating your anger…_you_ forgave her."

The zabrak paused, and Cal knew he had hit the right spot.

"Before you showed yourself to Trilla," Cal pressed. "She was confident, at ease. During our duel, I could sense how balanced she was, despite her perversion to the Dark Side…but when you showed your face to her…she didn't look the same. Something within her…_snapped_."

"_Yeah_, she looked like she became _more_ pissed off," Xur shrugged in dismissal.

"That's not what I mean. I could feel it. When she taunted me through the earpiece, it was _forced_ confidence. I didn't notice it then, but _now_…I know she was struggling. I think seeing you again, after thinking you were dead, made her feel insecure."

Xur's head slowly nodded. "When I was there, she and I worked together _a lot_. One thing I tried was goading her into a challenge, trying to get her to reexamine herself…to get her to realize that she wasn't the one pulling the strings."

Cere finally spoke. "An interesting approach…but not unfounded. Strife invites change, and if she's begun to question herself, she _could_ question her own anger…but to let it go, that's another matter."

"I think it's worth a try," Cal nodded, turning to Xur. "You've come this far alone. You don't have to be anymore. Can you join us?"

The zabrak mulled for a moment, but eventually picked himself up. Cal could see his weariness, but he felt that his words had rung true within the battered Clone Wars veteran.

"I'll join you, but you still owe me that sit rep."

Cal smiled. "We'll get you caught up," then turned to Greez, who seemed less anxious than he had when Xur arrived. "Could you whip us up something? I'm starving."

"Yeah, you got a fresher? I smell like bog rat shit," Xur asked, pulling his arms up in disgust.

"Yeah, yeah, in the back," Greez pointed. "Just uh…you know it's not too hard to find…and uh…sure kid I'll get something started for you."

BD-1 chirped from the couch.

"Clean oil?" Greez grumbled. "What is this, a luxury liner? Credits don't appear out of thin air!"

As the others moved about the ship, Cere stayed put, her eyes distant, and her feelings…

Outward.

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Inquisitor's Quarters**

Trilla stared, her back hunched over, her rear planted on a hard durasteel chair, her hands clasped before her.

Stared at her helmet.

Its cuts were precise, the duraplast finely tuned at perfect angles created to entice maximum intimidation and instill near instantaneous fear in whoever observed it. Since she had first donned it, the helmet had served her _very_ well. For many Jedi, it had been the last thing they ever saw until joining the ashes with the rest of their kind, and she had always been proud to say it had given her an advantage when she needed it most.

Until it laid its gaze upon Cal Kestis.

For the first time, it had failed her, not only partially, but utterly and completely.

She felt balance before, despite how she had become the Second Sister, feeling in complete control of every situation, intelligently finding her way to victory each time. Every opponent she ever faced, she had broken before engaging, resulting in their slow and humiliating defeat by her hand. Now she felt unsure of herself, fledgling, broken.

_All this time I was right beside you, and you had no idea. None of you did!_

Her eyes shut, allowing them the sweet relief of remoisturizing themselves. A master manipulator like herself had been fooled into believing that the man beside her was an ally, and if not that, a professional partner. Her face drained every time she realized it, and the cold shiver she had long feared returned, the sound of metal stomping against metal, mechanical breathing creeping into the depths of her soul.

Trilla's jaw shuddered, and she wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth in her chair.

"Do not…go…gen-," she shuddered again, unable to recite the poem, just as she had been unable to since…that _moment_. The horrid sound returned to her, the _whirr_ of machinery energizing, and the spine-chilling anticipation of what came next.

_She has forsaken you._

That _voice_. Not that _voice_.

_She has abandoned you._

Her chin shivered, and whimpering came next.

_She has betrayed you._

Her head slowly nodded, and she whimpered to herself, her eyes watered. "_Yes_."

_He cannot save you here._

"No one can," she answered monotonously, her emotions beginning to fade.

_You are mine._

"I am yours."

Her fear faded, and her rocking stopped, just as it always did. That voice was here to protect her, to shield her from harm, and to intensify her power, and every time she remembered it, she felt _happiness_…whole.

Balance had returned.

_It was good to be with you again._

Her jaw shuddered once more.

_I promise to free you from this cage the Empire has thrown you in._

Trilla's hands pressed against her ears, trying to silence the new voice that challenged the old, but it continued, compounding itself into a _chorus_ of chaos…passion.

_Love._

She screamed, and in a moment of insanity, she slashed forward with her drawn blade, the superheated beam cutting through the helmet with ease, along with anything else in its way. The blaze of the bleeding kyber crystal reverberated through her quarters, the red hue covering all the light could reach, and she breathed, uneasy and heavy.

Leaning back, her elbow butted into her cape, and she frantically growled, ripping the fabric from her suit and tossing it aside. Without any control, she reached forward with her saber and set it ablaze, letting it burn beside her.

"No cage contains _me_," she seethed as she rose from her chair, exiting her quarters, leaving her severed helmet and burning cape behind. As she passed through the hallways, she grabbed ahold of a passing protocol droid. "There's a fire in my quarters. Deal with it."

It scrambled off, and she could hear the extinguishing chemicals fire from the droid's arm, the sound dropping off as she marched down the hall.

Her balance was broken, and many would die before she got it back.

Starting with Cal Kestis.

* * *

"Feeling any better?"

Effa turned her head to the right, laid out on a medical bed, her healing leg still held together in a splint. "You're back again?"

"I never left."

The blonde closed her eyes, letting a blissful smile slide across her lips. "I thought I told you to leave me _alone_."

"Leave you alone? Now? Look at yourself."

Effa looked at her leg, and then turned her head to the left. "_Shhh_. Go away, go away," she sang.

"You can't turn me away. I _made_ you. You're still alive because of me."

She continued to hush and sing. "Go away, go away."

"Your body is broken. You _know_ what your masters do with _broken_ things, especially to useless trash like yourself."

"_Shhh_. Trilla is my friend…my very, very, very best friend. She'll always protect me," she sang.

"Trilla is _not_ your friend. She's nobody's friend."

"She _is_ my friend."

"_No_. She doesn't even love Xur anymore. She doesn't love _anyone_."

"_I_ love her."

"She _doesn't_ love you. She _hates_ you. She hates everyone."

Effa covered her ears with her hands. "Go away, go away, go away."

"She's going to _kill_ you."

"Go away, and never come back."

"Who are you talking to?"

Effa's senses focused, and her mind became singular once again. Dropping her hands from her ears, she turned to the side of her bed, and Trilla was sitting, leg over another and leaning back.

The blonde beamed. "_Trilla_. You're here."

The brunette's yellowing eyes paced away in confusion. "No shit."

Effa paused, her eyes locked on Trilla's face, searching for something in her expression to prove herself wrong. "Trilla…do you love me?" she asked.

This time, Trilla totally looked away, grumbling to herself. "We're not doing this _again_, Effa."

She let a tear roll down her face. "Please Trilla, what would it take for you to love me again?"

Her counterpart rolled her eyes and rose to her feet, marching to the medical droid, reactivating it with a wave in front of its eyes. "What did you put in her?"

The droid's eyes flickered to life, mechanically straightening itself from its droop. "Activating…please wait…one moment until I may process queries."

Trilla crossed her arms in annoyance. "Blasted fucking VI."

Since the Empire had upgraded most droids to the more advanced virtual intelligences, their processing power had increased, but many of them spoke more like computers, as opposed to droids who could develop their own personalities over time.

Which made them much more frustrating to deal with.

"Scanning," the medical droid spoke, running its optics over Trilla. "Identity confirmed, Second Sister. You are entitled to privileged access to many-,"

"Of course I am, you dumb cunt, now what meds did you give the Third Sister?" Trilla snapped.

"Retrieving file…," the droid stopped, its eyes flashing. "The Third Sister suffered multiple fractures, a broken tibia, and also a case of post-traumatic stress that thus resulted in Dissociative Identity Disorder. In order to-,"

Trilla grabbed ahold of the droid, pulling it in with her teeth bared. "Just tell me what you put in her!"

The droid simply flicked its head. "The Third Sister was injected with multiple doses of ketamine, as well as other medications that I am not permitted to-,"

Trilla's saber was ignited, and the droid flopped over in two pieces as she cut it down.

"What are you doing to my droid?"

Trilla whirled but stopped once she saw who had entered. "Admiral Vorchenko."

The Imperial admiral stepped towards the droid, observing the sparking torso where her saber had cut through. She snorted, keeping her arms behind her back. "Do you have any idea how much these cost?"

Effa laughed almost hysterically. "She…she cut it down because it wouldn't tell her what drugs it gave me!" she giggled, rolling over.

Vorchenko gave Effa one look before returning her blue-violet gaze to Trilla, her durasteel expression nearly a match to the inquisitor's. "Effa Azulia has an unusually high tolerance to ketamine, which is why she is in such a…state."

Trilla's arms crossed. "You know her name."

"She's on my ship, Trilla Suduri. I know every name of _everyone_ on my ship," she replied. "And right now, you owe me another medical droid."

The Second Sister begrudgingly looked away, while Effa chuckled and pointed at her in mockery. Anyone else had come at her so harshly, and she would've stomped them back in their place…but this was a woman she admittedly had slight admiration for, and times for Trilla were…different for now.

"I apologize," she huffed.

There was a moment of silence between the two, until the admiral shrugged. "Acceptable. Now, inquisitor, I'd ask that you come with me. There are matters we need to discuss."

Trilla didn't submit so easily, focusing her gaze on Effa. "Regarding?"

Vorchenko turned to face her directly. "Matters you will find _very_ important…unless you'd prefer I order you to follow me…but believe me; I can help you, and you can help me."

Her demeanor was _profound_, to say the least, and Trilla found it difficult to deny her request…almost _wishing_ to be under her command. The admiral's very tone projected brilliance and intelligence, certainly a match for her own.

Not to mention she seemed competent, a quality sorely lacking in the Empire.

"Very well," Trilla accepted.

Effa gasped. "Is she being…_nice _to people now?"

"For fuck sake will you shut your hole?" Trilla growled.

"Commodore, I need someone to attend to the Third Sister," Vorchenko keyed into her wrist-comm.

"_Copy that, ma'am_," it called back nearly instantaneously.

"Appreciated," she replied, and keyed it off, looking to Trilla. "Suduri, if you'd follow me."

Trilla was becoming increasingly annoyed at the admiral's use of her real name, as well as somewhat insecure, but she followed in her wake, nonetheless. They paced out into the hall, passing by armed stormtrooper squads and naval officers.

"Tell me: is there a reason your quarters were on fire earlier today?" the admiral asked, Trilla following just beside her.

The inquisitor grumbled to herself, unable to answer.

Vorchenko didn't seem to mind her silence. "We all have our moments, inquisitor, but I'd insist you save mental breakdowns for _outside_ my ship."

"I did not come for you to patronize me, Admiral."

"Nor did I ask you here to do so."

They walked the halls for what seemed like half a day to Trilla, which she figured was because how uncomfortable she felt walking among Imperial soldiers without her helmet to cover her face. It would be simple to replace it, but she was _done_ hiding. Whenever someone crossed her, they would lay their eyes upon her face for the last time, knowing not only what, but _who_ they had trifled with.

Vorchenko lead her to the bridge command elevator, and they both slid inside the small space, the admiral waving off anyone else who tried to enter. Once the doors shut, and they had begun their ascent, Vorchenko pressed the emergency stop.

Trilla's hand twitched towards her hilt. "What's this?"

The admiral said nothing, keeping her eyes fixed on the door. "Are you sure it was him?"

"Who?"

Vorchenko rolled her eyes. "You know."

Trilla shook her head and crossed her arms, her hand making its way up to her mouth. "It was him."

The admiral grumbled to herself in annoyance. "That complicates things,"

Now, things were starting to come together in Trilla's head. Admiral Vorchenko was only _Admiral_ because of her role in Xur Eon's seemingly staged demise…which meant she now had a loose end to close, or…

Trilla's head slowly turned to Vorchenko. "Tell me, Admiral: when was your last contact with Xur Eon?"

Vorchenko turned to meet her gaze. "Consider your next words, _carefully_, Inquisitor."

She could almost imagine how _easily_ she could cleave the woman in half just for threatening her in such a way…but that would gain her nothing, and without proof, she'd only be digging her own grave.

"You said you could help me?" Trilla reminded her.

"I can, yes," she nodded. "You are correct to assume that Eon being alive creates…_issues_ with my current promotion. I can already smell the vultures circling as we speak."

Trilla shrugged. "I fail to see how this concerns me."

Vorchenko cocked her head. "You think I'm the _only_ one they'll begin to question? The Empire knows _everything_ about him. Now that he is alive, they'll look _anywhere_; his former allies, his allies' allies, his acquaintances, his travel path during the Clone Wars," she then turned her entire body to face Trilla. "His _relationships_."

Trilla met her stance. "This'd better not be _blackmail_."

"It's a _warning_. We're all just tools in the end, Suduri. Do you honestly think the Empire cares whether or not you've committed to them? If they can't find him, they're going to _use_ you to find him."

The Second Sister looked away for a moment, trying to shake off the admiral's true words. "What's your proposal?"

Vorchenko stepped back. "I can tell you exactly where Cal Kestis will be, and Xur Eon won't be far behind."

* * *

**Rhen Var, 14 BBY**

**Errant Tavern**

Brutis _hated_ rum. Instead of granting him a satisfying and smooth finish after fighting past the initial bitterness, it ravaged his insides and never bestowed that calming swallow that a proper drink did.

Although the buzz it left behind was enough for now.

Rhen Var would certainly freeze his balls off if he allowed it to, which was why he took the time to warm up in the climate-controlled paradise of the Errant Tavern…the _only_ place that served drinks on the whole planet. It was placed at the base of the Rhen Var Citadel, an ancient tourist attraction that Brutis knew nothing about and could care less.

He just needed a fucking drink.

Brutis hadn't removed his purge trooper garments yet, and he figured it would buy him some peace before the inquisitor bitch came after him. Of course, she'd send troops first, but they wouldn't last long against him.

All there was to look at through his own eyes was the fireteam of purge troopers sitting among the tables, one of them with a teenaged boy in chains. He could only imagine why, and for some unknown reason to him…it made him _angry_.

Shaking it off, he took another drink, but the rum only bothered him more.

One of the purge troopers who kept looking his way, a rifle slung over his back, seemed to find what he was trying to discover. "I know you!" he blurted and stood. Brutis prepped himself, already analyzing the fight, and angling his back to pull out his hammer. "You're Commander Brutis!"

Brutis lost his tension, and the trooper walked quickly over his to lone table, taking the opposing seat and removing his helmet. He was subtly built, but skinny appearance-wise, and his mustache and shaggy black hair were his most defining features.

"Captain George," he introduced himself, dropping a credit on the table and turning back to the alien bartender. "Get this man another drink!"

Brutis wasn't in the mood to chat, but it was far from his choice now.

"What brings you out here?" George asked, while the alien poured him another shot of rum.

The massive human's eyes paced to the boy, and then back to the Captain. "I could ask the same of you. What are _you_ doing out here?"

"Rounding up traitors," he shrugged, as if it was obvious.

"No need. They're all dead."

"So they say," he admitted, turning back to his men and flicking his head, who in turn grabbed ahold of the chained boy and dragged him over to the table. "Xur Eon killed on Iridonia, and the Second Sister tailing the first we've seen in a while," he then chuckled as the boy was placed face-down on the table, his face bloodied from abuse. "But I don't need to tell you that, do I? You've been right in the middle of it, while _I've_ been stuck out here…finding little skugs like these."

Brutis saw the boy's blue eyes, ravaged with fear as the gag around his mouth trembled with his own.

"What are you going to do with him?" he asked.

George scoffed, and grabbed ahold of the kid, dragging his cheek along the table. "Take him back, of course, to the Fortress. Let them add another to our ranks."

The boy trembled, and Brutis noticed that his arm had been broken, probably from resistance. George smiled and jerked his thumb back to his men. "You should come with us. Our squad would be invincible with you around, and think about it, there's nothing standing in the way of the Empire now."

Brutis huffed. "I'm not going back to the Fortress."

"We can do whatever we like!" George insisted. "We're the Inquisitorious, and with another one of _these_, we'll certainly rise in the ranks."

Screams echoed in Brutis' head, those of the last he had to watch the Empire torture in their barbaric contraptions. The first he ever saw still remained burned in his brain…a girl…no older than 20, begging for the pain to finally stop.

"_Fuck_ the Inquisitorious," he spat.

George's face fell, and the entire tavern fell into an eerie quiet…and even the boy had stopped whimpering. Brutis took the shot he had been poured, fighting off the taste, but never allowing his eyes to leave George.

"When I heard that the Second Sister's hound had shit his britches and run from the chase with that Jedi, I didn't believe it," he said, his look intense. "Yet here you are."

"Here I am," Brutis echoed, and flicked his head back to the bartender. "Bring me another drink."

George held up his hand, and the bartender stopped in his tracks, eventually backing away. "So…you're a traitor too…like this one?"

Brutis snorted, and slowly allowed a mocking smile. "You like to talk, don't you? Little shits like you are the reason I'm here now…fuckers who think that torturing little kids makes them men," the tall man let his brow slant, and turned back to the bartender. "Another drink."

The Captain turned back to his men, and Brutis knew he was telling them to ready themselves. "You don't seem to understand the situation."

"I _understand_ that if you say another fucking word…I'm going to have to make sure you never say another one again."

The pause that followed was sickening, slow, and almost painful. No one made a move, and Brutis waited for his chance to end the blathering cunt once and for all.

George titled his head. "You're one of our best…you're going to die over another drink?"

"No," Brutis shook his. "_You _are."

His adversary hesitated, and that was all the time Brutis needed to know what would come next.

George drew a combat knife from his chest-slung sheath and lunged over the table, but Brutis' massive hand grabbed ahold of his wrist and forced the knife back into the man's throat. He choked as blood sputtered all over the table and onto the boy's face, and the hulking human stepped around the bench, holding George's dying body in front of him as his men opened fire. Not able to worry about the boy for now, Brutis drew his DC-17 blaster and hit a perfect headshot that seared through one's brain, killing him instantly.

Only two remained, and Brutis heaved George's dead corpse towards them, the body hitting one, and the blood splatter doing enough to stagger the other. Taking his chance, Brutis drew his electrohammer and charged it, brining it around for a heavy swing that knocked the blinded one's blaster from his hand. His adversary was smart, however, and tackled Brutis before he could come back around. Despite the quick thinking, Brutis quickly recovered, grabbing ahold of him and rolling, pinning the man to the ground with his immense strength, before brining the hammer down onto their helmeted head, cracking open duraplast and splintering bone, blood covering the brunt of his hammer. He swung again for good measure, this time flattening his head completely.

A blaster bolt ripped through his shoulder and he let out a low-pitch scream, but quickly shook off the pain and turned, firing his blaster pistol at the remaining blood-soaked trooper. The shot landed through his thigh, dropping him on one knee, before Brutis charged, winding up and swinging the hammer through the man's helmeted head, ending his life immediately.

Brutis ended the charge on his hammer, doing his best to wipe the blood and guts that covered it. The room smelt of charred flesh and scattered feces, but he was unaffected, turning his attention to the boy trying to free himself from his bonds. As he approached, the boy shuddered and growled through the gag, fighting until Brutis pulled it off his mouth.

"…et away from me!" he yelled, but then yelped as his arm flared in pain again.

Brutis sighed. "Let me guess, you're one of those Jedi kids."

He grit his teeth. "What's it matter to you?"

"Because I could absolutely pound your face in right now," Brutis warned, displaying his hammer. "But we're here talking…so _talk_."

The boy gulped, his eyes pacing away as he was still unable to pick himself up. "Y-yes…I used to be a Jedi youngling."

"That's what I thought," Brutis figured and drew his own knife, making the boy rear back in fear, only to watch him cut him free of the bonds. "What's your name?"

The Jedi grunted as he pulled himself up, careful not to use his broken forearm. "P…Petro."

Brutis tipped his head. "Do you want to live, Petro?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Come with me, then," Brutis stood, sheathing his hammer, noticing the boy covering his nose from the rancid smell. "Men shit themselves when they die, Jedi. Bet they didn't teach you _that_."

* * *

**Mostly a set up chapter, and maybe you can tell that I'm debating going absolutely off the rails of the Fallen Order plotline. I just felt like after the events of Chapter 7, Trilla's mentality would be severely affected, and would in turn affect herself entirely.**

**Thanks for the incredible support thus far. This is by far the fastest-growing story I've ever written, and I hope you're all enjoying this thus far. Please let me know how I'm doing! It only inspires me to continue bigger and better.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	11. Knights of the Fallen Order - Part I

**CHAPTER 8**

Knights of the Fallen Order  
Part I

"A servant with divided loyalties is no servant at all."

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

Cal enjoyed his sleep, something he was finally able to take part in as his situation had become much more stable with his crew mates. Despite what had happened on Zeffo, he held out hope that with his new powerful ally, they would be able to do some good in the galaxy. A thought such as that was powerful comfort.

Being poked awake by Greez…not so much.

"Hey, kid, wake up," he heard the lateron say, and his eyes fluttered open, greeted to the fuzzy image of his face as his vision readjusted. "Can we talk?"

Cal wiped his eye to expediate the process. "_What?_"

"Can we talk?" Greez echoed, and Cal could sense his urgency enough to at least attempt to grant his request…but his mood was another matter. However, when Cal silently tried to get him to leave him to his rest, the lateron took it upon himself to sit atop his mattress. "Look…I got some concerns about our new friend here."

The Jedi groaned, forced to rise when he'd much rather continue to shut his eyes. "What are you talking about?" he asked, groggily as he threw his legs off the bed and sat up.

Greez was almost down to a whisper. "Since the guy is in the fresher…I just want to say that he gives me a bad vibe," he said, and Cal could tell his concern was genuine. "Are you sure we can trust him? I mean, he looks just like the other lady who almost crashed my ship."

Cal scoffed. "You mean Trilla? Greez, just because he dresses the same way doesn't mean he _acts_ the same. Besides, he was undercover."

"Alright kid, I'm not going to pretend like I get all this Jedi stuff, but I'm telling you…the guy makes me feel uneasy," he voiced. "And even if he was undercover, I don't think now is the right time to trust someone like that _anyway_. What if he's undercover _now_?"

The red-haired Jedi almost laughed at that. "You're serious?"

Greez raised his four hands defensively and shrugged. "You don't believe me, fine. Just don't be surprised when your buddy suddenly sells us out to the Empire."

"The Empire has been chasing him _a lot_ longer than they've been chasing _me_," Cal reminded him. "No one hates it more than he does. What would he have to gain?"

"Credits, fame, and maybe," Greez counted off on his fingers. "Maybe winning that girl back. Tell me kid, how do you think she'd react if he brought you back to her?"

Cal paused for a moment, not expecting to actually _consider_ any of Greez's claims. The way Xur felt about Trilla was painfully obvious, and Cal had experienced firsthand what a powerful emotion lust could be, turning even the most stable individual _irrational_.

"All I'll say is this: if you and she were dangling off the edge of a building, and he could only save one, I'd bet big money he'd save her _every_ time."

He wanted to refute it…but he couldn't even convince himself that Greez was wrong.

"Alright Greez, you've made your point."

Cal sensed the lateron's regret spark for a moment, but it was quickly snuffed out. "I don't _hope_ he is what I think he might be…just, the shit I've seen, kid…I just want to make sure you're prepared."

The Jedi only gave him a nod, and said nothing, quietly wishing to be left alone. Greez seemed to get the point, hopping down from his seat on Cal's bed.

"We've still got a few hours of hyperspace. If you need a few winks, I'd get them now," he smirked as he left Cal alone, shutting the sliding door behind him.

Unexpectedly, he pondered _every_ word that Greez had said. Cal could see it in his mind, the zabrak pulling Trilla to the safety of solid ground whilst leaving him to fall to his death. It played out like various futures, desperately searching for the one in which the opposite would be true.

No avail.

_Boo-doo?_

Cal shook his head to BD, who had just reactivated himself from recharge. "No BD, I'm not ok," he replied, dejected. "I just feel like no one can be trusted anymore."

Greez hadn't even mentioned that Cere had lied about Trilla, something that was already plaguing Cal's mind. Xur's appearance and reveal was enough to table _that_ discussion for now, but he certainly hadn't forgotten it.

The little droid waltzed over and hopped up onto Cal's bed, his antennas pointing upwards.

_Trill boo-doop pree._

He smiled at that and patted him on the head. "You're right. You'll watch my back, won't you?"

BD-1 propped himself up in glee.

* * *

"Run it by me again. Short version this time."

Xur kept himself attentive as Cal had revisited his travels since Bracca, but he found it especially effective to hear the condensed summary _after_ the story was told. He found it easier to remember the big details.

Cal was arched over on the couch, his hands making gestures as he explained. "So Jedi Master Eno Cordova hid a holocron in an ancient Zeffo vault containing a list of all known force sensitive children just before the Purge. In order to access it, he tasked us through BD-1 to explore the tombs of the Zeffo Sages. The one where I found you was the second, but before that we went to Kashyyyk to speak with Cheiftan Tarfful. As I explained, we assisted Saw Gerrera in capturing an imperial refinery, who in turn, brought me into contact with him," the Jedi then pointed to the gold and gray cube at the center of the round table between the two of them. "Who gave me this: a wayfinder, which we are currently using to plot our course through hyperspace. This, in turn, unlocked another recording from BD."

Xur leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the device. "I've seen wayfinders, but nothing like this one. Could you play the recording, BD?"

The droid stood beside Cal on the couch, and he looked to his companion first. "Yeah, go ahead."

_Boo-doop._

BD straightened himself before his projector eye glowed, and the holographic image of Cordova appeared beside the wayfinder.

"_Over my years of studying the Zeffo, I can say with finality that this device was not created by their kind…but of another precursor civilization_," Cordova rambled, shown observing it in his hand. "_But its design distinctly resembles that of the secondary artifact depicted in the Tomb of Miktrull mural. My best conclusion is that it is a wayfinder, perhaps a guide to reach a world not mapped by the Republic_," he said, joy in his voice at the possibilities. "_My friend, I believe this planet may be the key to finding our Astrium._"

The recording ended, and Cal continued. "BD says he doesn't remember where the wayfinder goes, so we're heading in blind."

Xur mulled the information. This seemed like a lot of extra trouble for a holocron, but its importance certainly warranted the difficulty of accessing it. A list of force sensitive children…it could be the outlet for he and Cal to restore the Jedi Order and beat back the Empire. The fight could _truly_ begin.

"The good news is that if this planet is off star charts, then we could be safe from the Empire while we're there," Cal leaned back.

Xur's anxiety sparked, but he stifled it.

"Don't get your hopes up, Cal," Xur warned. "If I've learned anything all this time, it's that the Empire is _everywhere_."

"Cal, Eon," Cere called, stepping out of the cockpit. "We're almost there. Better secure yourselves."

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Command Bridge**

"Zakuul," Vorchenko revealed, her hands clasped behind her back and chest inwards, her chin angled downward in a state of focus.

"Never heard of it," Trilla admitted, adopting a very similar stance, their sets of eyes locked on the dark center of their hyperspace tunnel.

"It's ancient history, and the fact that it lies so deep in the Unknown Regions and serves absolutely nil strategic value to _anyone_," the admiral explained. "And yet _that_ is where Cal Kestis is headed."

"You still haven't told me how you know this," Trilla noted, her arms crossing beneath her breast. "I'm not one too keen on marching into somewhere _blind_."

"Neither am I," Vorchenko seconded, and took the datapad that was offered to her from an officer. In an exchanging motion, Trilla looked down to see it passed on to her.

"What's this?" she asked, accepting it, her eyes granted the image of a Zeffo mural displayed on the screen. Some of it looked familiar, especially the style, but she was not one to focus on artistic culture. She had only observed it in such astute detail to determine why Eno Cordova had been so obsessed with an ancient culture, and the path he was leading her Jedi prey on now.

"There are two artifacts depicted," Vorchenko explained, her eyes focused back on the hyperspace tunnel. "One is what the Zeffo refer to as an "Astrium", and what do you believe the second appears to be?"

Trilla bit back a retort. She was in no mood for trivial games, but the Admiral had been resourceful enough for her to bite. "It appears to be…a Jedi holocron."

"It's a wayfinder," she corrected.

The Inquisitor scoffed. "Wayfinders come in many different shapes and constructions. What makes you so sure?"

"I got a second opinion," she said, taking the datapad back and handing it to her officer. "A rather intriguing alien who is rising through Imperial ranks at a staggering rate. His fascination for art proved to be quite useful, as he was able to determine it based off striations and molds-,"

"Why would Kestis come _here_?" Trilla cut her off, disinterested in some random Imperial cadet. "The only reason I can determine is that Master Cordova left another step for locating the holocron on Zakuul."

"That is a fair analysis."

Trilla sensed there was more the admiral wasn't telling her, but her structured mind was also a labyrinth virtually unreadable. Perhaps she had developed such a defense to hide her thoughts from the Jedi Generals she was forced to appease during the Clone Wars.

Or just to hide her thoughts from the likes of _her_.

"Admiral, brace for deceleration," the deck officer warned.

"Acknowledged."

The _Valkyrie_ came out of hyperspace, the lines of blue becoming dots of stars…but they seemed to appear in simply deep space.

"Is your navi-computer malfunctioning?" Trilla questioned.

"Quite the opposite," Vorchenko denied, allowing her head to lean back. "Allow the hyperdrive to reset, and then begin the overcharge process."

"Yes ma'am."

Trilla was dumbfounded, but she attempted to not seem as such. "I'm not familiar with 'overcharging' the hyperdrive."

"It is somewhat dangerous, but a hyperdrive can siphon power from other areas of the ship to overcharge itself, firing the ship off at a speed too fast for even gravity wells to pull us out from. This means we can take a more direct route, bypassing hyperlanes, however since this part of space _has_ no hyperlanes, we need to forge our own."

"But if we had a wayfinder, like Kestis," Trilla filled in.

"Precisely," she tipped her head in acknowledgement. "There would be no need."

The inquisitor sighed. "How long?"

Vorchenko shrugged. "Until we reach Zakuul? A day. Three at the longest."

Trilla grumbled. "Time is of the essence, Admiral."

"That is abundantly clear to me, Inquisitor," Vorchenko finally turned to her. "I recommend you settle in."

_If I didn't need you to pull this off…_

"You are testing me," she warned, her hand inching towards her hilt.

The bridge went eerily silent in that moment, and Vorchenko cocked her head. "You believe that fear instills superiority, do you not?"

Trilla turned her head but kept her eyes on her current adversary. "It is a powerful motivator."

"But it is by far the weakest foundation. Light a fire on a durasteel bridge with wood supports, and the entire structure will collapse. Fear has similar weaknesses, which I'm sure you've experienced rather recently."

Trilla's hand was inches away from the cold metal of her blade, and she could almost taste her death by now.

"I would stretch your senses, if I were you," Vorchenko warned. "Isn't that a power you Mystics are capable of?"

Her hand was on her hilt, and that was when she sensed something was not right. The black-armored pair of death troopers stationed at the edges of the bridge had moved during their standoff, now positioned close enough to Trilla to not only have a near point-blank shot but engage in melee if necessary. She felt she could take them…_probably_. Death troopers were rumored to be worth about three of her purge units, but by the time she dispatched them, Vorchenko would certainly have enough time to call upon other assets she had hidden.

Not only that, she sensed that other officers on the bridge were experiencing adrenaline at the situation…preparing themselves to fight…to _defend_ their Admiral.

Trilla's hand fell away from her hilt, and the death troopers slowly backed off.

"Take my advice, Inquisitor," Vorchenko suggested, turning back to the viewport, but without the condescending tone she expected. "Lead by _example_, not fear. Then, your men will not only follow you now, but _forever_."

It was odd. Trilla didn't feel embarrassed, rather she was _impressed_. Her people's devotion to her, it was reminiscent…of _him_. Trilla had watched half of her own men betray her in an instant, because someone had been able to take their fear of her _away_. That meant, to not suffer the same fate, she would have to be the most _feared_ being in the galaxy…

And she was _far_ from that.

"I will consider your words," Trilla tipped her head, and left the admiral to her bridge.

As the inquisitor left her sight, Vorchenko only had one thought to that.

_It may save your life._

* * *

**Zakuul, 14 BBY**

**Unknown**

_Blo-peep?_

"No, BD. I've never seen anything like this before," Cal replied as he stepped out of the _Mantis_ and onto the old, rusted and abandoned landing pad, greeted to the sight of a fallen ecumenopolis. He could only imagine the majesty of this world when its lights brightened the night, and its bustling skies were still filled with skycars and speeders. The buildings were architectural wonders, hourglass shapes that stretched just beyond the atmosphere and into space, where the weaker center could be compensated with the lack of heavy gravity.

"It's like Coruscant," Cere noted, standing beside him. "But…everyone's gone."

Not everything was still standing. Cal noticed one toppled building in the distance, which in turn had left a trail of destruction in its wake. There were areas where some of the buildings had crumbled, and the sound of struggling durasteel was apparent in the wind, echoing across the landscape.

Not to mention that the Force was still strong here, and Cal felt as if ghosts were watching the both of them in the shadows.

His eyes paced to what looked like a device, ancient and far beyond inoperable, but he could sense an echo in the Force from it. Taking it into his gloved hand, he felt himself transported back multiple millennia…its history revealed.

"This was a dock worker's datapad," Cal said, turning to Cere as BD's scanning interface appeared over his shoulder. "We're on a planet called Zakuul. It used to be the center of galactic power at one point."

Cere's eyes narrowed. "Why does that name sound familiar…"

"Because you probably read about it in the Archives," Xur answered, descending the ramp as he pulled his last glove over his right hand. "Thanks for the change of clothes by the way, Cal. Got really tired of wearing that crap material."

Cal scoffed. "I'd expect Inquisitor garments to be high quality protection."

"Are you kidding me? That piece of shit couldn't stop a flea from biting you."

Cere rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Back to the task at hand, you're right. I remember the Archives having a section on a precursor empire that controlled the galaxy for a brief moment, but long enough to do some serious damage. They commanded something called the…Eternal Fleet I think it was."

"I second that," Xur pointed pulling up his pants. "Damn Cal have you been _gaining_ weight?"

"Hilarious," he deadpanned, before returning his gaze to Cere. "If that's the case, then I can imagine they may have collected Zeffo artifacts during their reign. Maybe one of those is an Astrium."

"BD doesn't have any logs?" Cere asked.

_Booooo._

"No, he doesn't," Cal translated.

"_Then_ we're going in blind," Xur shrugged. "Lucky for you, I specialize in jumping into death traps with no intel."

Neither of them even acknowledged his comment, and Cal sensed a slight surge of distrust from their zabrak companion.

"Ok…what's up?" he asked. "Why the hard-ass seriousness?"

"There's a lot at stake, Eon," Cere justified. "And…"

Cal shook his head, eventually turning to Xur, deciding to get it off his chest. "We're concerned about your motives."

He narrowed his eyes. "My what?"

"Greez talked to you too, huh?" Cere noted.

Cal snorted, waving his hand in the air. "Oh, so we're just roping everyone in, are we?"

"Hang on…" Xur raised his hand, pulling up his pants again, and both of them stopped before they began to argue. The zabrak thought for a moment, before chuckling in a less-than-amused manner. "Is this about the whole Inquisitor thing?"

"Not…" Cere paused, this time reconsidering what she said.

The red-haired Jedi stepped forward. "If it were me or Trilla, who would you choose?"

Xur blinked a few times, before shaking his head. "What…what the fuck are you talking about, kid?"

"Alright, listen to me carefully," Cal spread both hands, demanding attention. "_I_ trust you, and I don't want to speak for her, but I _think_ Cere trusts you…but I'm worried your feelings for Trilla may have an adverse effect on your decision-making."

Xur scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal. "You've got to be _shitting_ me."

"Eon, this is serious-," Cere began, but the zabrak suddenly reared his head.

"I busted my fucking ass to get the hell out of there just to help you, and _this_ is what I get? Distrust and deceit?"

"Now, Xur," Cal eased.

"If any of us should be concerned with anyone it should be _her_," he pointed to Cere. "You're the one who _fucking _cracked-," he stopped himself, eyes wide, and feelings of regret purposely projected in the Force, Cal figured. "That was…_really_ unnecessary. Sorry, Cere. You didn't deserve that."

Neither Cere nor Cal said anything, and his blue eyes paced to them both before looking back to the ship. "Maybe I should just…"

"No," Cere shook her head, displaying no hurt in her eyes, and then turned to Cal. "He risked himself to help you on Zeffo…we should give him the benefit of the doubt."

"No you shouldn't," Xur denied, his head towards the floor. "I'll admit it…you're right, both of you. You know, maybe I'm not trustworthy…maybe I would choose Trilla when it came down to it…and maybe I haven't fully forgiven you, Cere, but that's on me, not you."

He looked up. "But I can promise you both this: I would _never_ choose the Empire, and if that's what choosing Trilla entails, then you can bet your ass I'd side with you _every_ time, Cal."

Cal mulled his words. He wanted _very_ badly to put all his trust in the former Jedi. Part of him still looked up to him as an example, but he knew what the reality of him was. The Dark Side was a part of him, and it always would be…but it was time for Cal to start being a Jedi…to start putting his trust in people that may not completely deserve it but have earned that chance.

The Jedi smirked. "Then let's get to work, shall we?"

Xur seemed surprised, but eventually nodded his head and smirked back. "Yeah. _Let's_."

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Trooper Mess Hall**

Trilla wasn't sure why she was here.

She sat at her own table at the edge of the entire hall, and she had watched troopers try to hide their movements away from her, but they were very bad at concealing their emotions. None of them wished to be too close to her and were probably asking that same question she had just asked herself.

There wasn't even a tray of rations before her. She was just…sitting there, unsure how to act upon the advice she had just received.

Being among them made her feel unwell internally. During her time in the Fortress, she had been isolated for so long that large crowds of other beings had adverse effects on not only her emotions, but her health entirely.

Not that either of those particularly mattered to her anymore.

Coincidentally, her mind focused more on Effa during her brood. The fellow inquisitor was still facing bed rest and bacta tank baths, but as far as injuries went, she was mostly healed. It was her _mind_ that was the problem. She had never been fully stable, but her mental sanity had gone completely off the rails since Zeffo, spending most of her bed rest time engaging in full-on conversations with herself.

To see her like that…it was admittedly…_unfortunate_. Her constant nagging for Trilla to show her affection was less than amusing, however, resulting in the reduction of her visits to her counterpart.

Love, like restraint, meant death.

"Liar!"

Trilla's eyes flashed to full focus, shocked by the response, but realized it was only one trooper yelling at one of his companions across their table, followed by laughter from the group.

This was going nowhere, and she needed to prepare herself for Kestis. With a frustrated huff, she shuffled to rise to her feet.

"Second Sister?"

Her yellowing eyes met who had spoken, a familiar purge trooper standing at the opposite end of her table.

"Lieutenant Commander," she greeted, reaffirming her posture. "Is there something you need?"

Blaze had never been truly _intimidated_ by her, but he had never been one to speak out of turn either. It was an…_admirable_ combination of traits. Her best guess was that it was his trusting nature, adopting a "gung-ho veteran" demeanor, being one of the older troopers in the Inquisitorious, but still maintaining his stark professionalism.

He looked unsure of himself, perhaps mulling whether or not he should even engage in what he considered, but he eventually straightened himself. "May I ask you something, ma'am?"

Trilla knew better than to give him free reign. "Depends."

No fear rose within him, and he proceeded to take a leap of faith. "That mission on Zeffo…it keeps replaying in my head," he started, eventually taking a seat, in which she allowed him. "Did I miss something?"

The inquisitor narrowed her eyes. "In regard to what?"

Blaze hesitated, his eyes pacing away, before returning in a flash. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

She was somewhat unsure as how to respond. No one _ever_ asked her that, and she had never _wanted_ them to. Her men were supposed to follow orders and do their job, not lay upon her how they were feeling or…

And yet if she had _known_ what their state of mind was…

"Granted," she approved.

He nodded, seeming somewhat stunned, but was good at not showing it. "I've been a soldier all my life, even before the Empire…I've _never_ seen anything like that before. Half of a company just…turning on you?"

Trilla crossed her arms in warning. "I do not need you critiquing my supposed inadequacies as a commander."

"That's just it, ma'am…I don't think it was your fault."

She scoffed. "Of course it's _my_ fault; my fault for being foolish enough not to see it sooner."

Trilla paused. What the hell was going on? Why would she admit to such a thing? Traitors are _traitors_, and in no way should she feel responsible for a failure of a mission when insurgents and deceivers had interfered.

Maybe she needed to reanalyze _her_ mental state.

"I think there's something bigger going on…something we can't see," he admitted. "This Xur Eon…I've only heard stories about his exploits…but he didn't just fool you, he fooled _everyone_."

That _was_ a favorable point of view.

"Stop me if you feel I'm overstepping my bounds, ma'am," he said. "But I've noticed you've been…_hard_ on yourself since then."

Trilla considered ending the conversation then and there, but she decided to bite. There was no one on this ship who could possibly understand what she was dealing with, not with Effa the way she was, but there was slight comfort in the possibility of getting it off her chest.

"I don't…_feel_ the same," she revealed, keeping her voice low, but not allowing her head to bow downwards. "Not since…"

Not since Xur pulled off his blasted helmet. _He_ was the catalyst behind her imbalance, and he needed to be _eradicated_ before it destroyed her.

_It is not my decree, Sister._

Trilla winced, trying to hide the shiver of fear that followed her revisit of the Grand Inquisitor's words…and despair followed, the sheer hopelessness of ever getting the meddling zabrak out of her head.

She stood from her seat, just as she felt the _Valkyrie_ come out of hyperspace once more. "I must prepare…" she hesitated, trying to speak as if learning a new word. "_Blaze_."

"I understand, ma'am," he nodded.

Trilla left the mess hall in a hurry. She felt she needed to kill something…or burst into tears.

* * *

**Zakuul, 14 BBY**

**Unknown**

Xur had just been reminded how much of an asshole he was.

He had _seen_ what devices the Empire had put _living beings_ in to, and to know that Cere had once been placed within one…and then to go on and punish her for it? The zabrak felt inclined to punch himself in the jaw, and he would whole-heartedly welcome it.

It was Trilla's revenge, certainly. Even if he felt like he had the upper hand, her voice still plagued his mind, whispering how he had failed her, and left her to suffer ever further at the hands of the Empire. Admittedly, he still held Cere responsible for what Trilla had become, but that was not even close to a valid excuse for what he had said. He could know, but he could never _understand_ what both of them had gone through.

Love had a way of blinding one's sense of reality…and it really made him think. _Would_ he ever choose Trilla over Cal? Not once had he considered it since he had joined the crew of the _Mantis_, and he imagined that was probably a good sign…but the answer to that question couldn't be answered until the moment came. Like he had realized many times before, the nightmare of that crimson blade protruding through her chest haunted him, sometimes even revisited him in his sleep. The idea of letting her die was _unthinkable_.

_But I don't love her anymore._

Xur almost laughed to himself as he paced behind Cal and BD-1.

_Yes you fucking do._

Honestly, he did, and he should stop trying to convince himself otherwise. One of the reasons he and Ahsoka had never stuck together after the war ended was simply that their motives were so different. They were on opposite sides of the spectrum, which seemed to be enticing during their time together. Trilla, on the other hand, had complimented much of him, and as unfortunate as it was, even _more_ so now. The togruta had never strayed _near_ the Dark Side, which was ironic with who her master ended up becoming, but Trilla had always been slightly less wary of it…which in turn seemed to be her undoing.

But it _wasn't_ her fault. As far as he could tell, she had done everything she possibly could've done. She fought, and she lost, simply because the odds had been stacked too greatly against her.

She deserved better…_much_ better.

BD-1 whistled and jumped from Cal's back, racing on its two short legs towards an old doorway. "Hey! Wait up, BD!" Cal protested.

They had been walking along an elevated man-made plateau that housed a strip; a pathway in between two rows of towering buildings. Because of their position, darkness was present around the clock, as the sun could not breach the building cover above, not to mention the thick, dark clouds of the swamp world. It made Xur wonder…why choose the swamps to build atop of? Not only were swamp worlds notoriously more dangerous than others, building foundations were much more difficult to establish. Truthfully, he was impressed by the ingenuity of this entire world, seemingly far ahead of its own time.

_Doo-whoop. Beep-boo._

"Your scanners are picking up something?" Cal confirmed, and then let his eyes run up the side of the building, which towered into the sky. Xur couldn't shake an eerie call in the Force just from looking at it.

In fact…it was…_strong._

"Do you feel that?" Xur asked, unexplainably spooked.

Cal looked back, and he couldn't find the same look on his face. "Feel what?"

The zabrak waved it off. "Nothing. We need to get this door open."

As he stepped forward, his Jedi counterpart grasped his shoulder. "Hang on. BD, I need you to scan for structural integrity."

BD nodded in compliance and activated his receptor, projecting the scanning interface. Xur grumbled to himself. This was why he shut out these feelings when they came. They made him sloppy.

"Good catch, Cal," he admitted, truthfully finished referring to him as "kid". The connotation didn't fit their age gap much anyhow, and now, he wasn't sure he deserved such a high ground anymore.

BD finished his scan, letting out a trill of beeps. Cal nodded. "Hey says it's-,"

"I know what he said, Cal," Xur elbowed him with a smile.

"That's right," he remembered. "Sorry, habit. Usually I run translator."

"I know the feeling."

Cal stepped forward, running his gloved hand over the durasteel door as BD jumped back onto his back. "No power. We could probably force it open."

"Solid durasteel?" Xur questioned. "If we had ordinance, sure, but this isn't the Clone Wars."

The Jedi wasn't about to give up, trying to dig his hands in between the two sliding doors. "There's got to be a way inside," he grunted, eventually giving up on his futile effort. "BD, scan for alternate routes."

Xur grabbed ahold of his shoulder. "Cal…just move."

His green eyes narrowed but he complied. "Oh…kay."

Placing his back foot in a supporting stance, the zabrak centered himself, calling upon as much energy as his body could contain, and only Cal could see the air around him distort from the phenomenon. Once he felt as if his own body would burst, he stepped forward and outstretched both hands, unleashing a battering ram of Force energy that ripped through the air and tore through the durasteel with a scream of clenching metal. Left behind was enough of a hole for the two of them to fit through.

Cal scoffed while BD let out a _whoo-hoo_. "You've got to teach me how to do that."

Xur took in deep breaths of calm, the Dark Side rising within him. "Nah. Then you'll end up like Trilla."

He paused before heading inside, turning his head back to his companion. "You used the Dark Side?"

The zabrak shrugged as he passed the Jedi, patting him on the shoulder as he entered the building. "Just a bit."

Cal followed, both of them greeted to darkness. "How does that work, exactly…your immunity."

Xur pulled his hilt from his belt, igniting the bleeding crystal to fill the darkness with a crimson hue, and the low, terrifying roar. "I don't even really know. All I know is when the Dark Side tries to take over, it doesn't, and I can make it go away at will."

"Sounds simple enough," Cal replied, igniting his master's blue blade, the end of his hilt repaired with that of Master Cordova's own.

Xur let out a weak laugh, kneeling to clear dust from the old rug beneath him. "I wish it was." The feeling he experienced was closer, but its cry had weakened somewhat, and he worried his force attack on the door had a hand in that.

In fact, the more time he spent here, the more it felt _familiar_. He had never once set foot on Zakuul, only read stories on it in the Archives during one of his punishment assignments with Ana…_that Jedi_. This place…it's vibe…the _planet_ itself called to him, as if he were _meant_ to be here.

There was something here for him, something beyond Cal's quest for Cordova's holocron.

"Xur, come see this," Cal called, and the zabrak turned, watching BD-1 illuminate what looked to be a deactivated droid, sprawled against the side wall in a dusted corner. "Never seen a droid like this before."

Xur narrowed his eyes and took a knee, albeit wary to touch the droid despite its obvious inoperability. "It looks like a…HK series maybe?" he surmised.

BD confirmed that with a scan.

"This droid's processor is still intact?" Xur asked, and BD nodded with a beep. "So you could reactivate it?"

"Woah, woah," Cal warned. "We have no idea what this thing does."

"Cal, if we can get a droid guide through this place, that's _gold_," Xur reasoned, then turning back to BD. "Do it."

He hesitated his optical receptors zoning in on Cal for confirmation, which was…_admirable_ to the zabrak. It showed the pair's trust in one another.

The Jedi sighed, but eventually nodded. "Alright BD…just be careful, buddy."

BD beeped in assurance, before climbing atop the dead droid and raising one leg, letting it spark with power before plunging it onto the droid's chest. At first, nothing happened…until the droid's yellow eyes flared to life. It reared forward, launching BD from its chest and into a tumble along the ground.

"BD!" Cal shouted, chasing after him while Xur jumped to his feet, saber ignited in hand.

The droid slowly stood, its movements robotic and stiff, until its eyes flashed in a constant pattern, its head moving up and down the zabrak.

"Scanning detected organic," it said, its voice fuzzy, as if it was repairing itself. Xur waited, saber in hand, while Cal picked up BD from the ground.

"Are you alright buddy?" he asked.

_Woo-hoo!_

Cal chuckled. "Whatever you say."

"Scan complete, genetic identification confirmed," the droid's eyes stopped blinking, and its bronzium-plated armor relaxed its stiff stance. "Hello, Master."

Xur cocked his head. "Master?"

"Yes! Master! You have purchased a Hunter Killer 69 series model for combat and protection. I am HK-69, and it appears I am now made to serve you."

The zabrak ran his hand through his hair, slicking it back, visibly confused. "Oh…kay. You can start by telling me about this place."

"Of course!" the HK unit jubilantly nodded. "Scanning…we are in the Czerka Corporation's Embassy here on Zakuul…although my memory banks distinctly remember the light levels being much higher."

"A lot has happened since…then," Xur figured as Cal came up beside him, letting BD climb on his back once more. "Zeffo…tell me what you know about that."

HK-69's head jerked, and eyes blinked, before speaking again. "Zeffo: a term used to describe an ancient precursor race long forgotten in the annuls of time. They were of little to no interest to the Eternal Emperor," the droid stopped, and then spoke again. "Aside from one scientist my old master had me slaughter. Hm…pity…that meatbag's scream nearly ruptured my audio receptors."

Xur held up his hand. "You _killed_ a scientist studying the Zeffo?"

"Yes, of course. It was my old master's command, but now, _you_ are my new master," HK answered. "I scanned his research logs before I left his body to rot."

"My _god_," Cal rubbed his eyes in disgust.

HK turned its head toward Cal, and rigidly pointed. "Is this meatbag bothering you, master? I can gladly murder him for you."

As Cal backed off with his hilt in hand, Xur held back the droid. "No, no! You are _not_ allowed to kill this… 'meatbag'. He is a _friend_, understood?"

The droid sighed, pulling its hand away from the rifle slung over its shoulder. "Very well, master. I will refrain from killing this one until you say the word.

Cal shook his head. "Xur I think we should scrap this bucket of bolts and move on," he suggested, and BD trilled negatively at the droid.

"I am no bucket of bolts," HK complained. "And your inferior droid companion should watch his language."

"HK!" Xur grabbed its attention. "The _logs_…tell me about the logs."

"Are we still on this topic, Master?" the droid asked, and Xur gave him a trying look. "The logs are very boring and uninteresting for a meatbag, but they repeat one phrase."

Xur cocked his head, and Cal leaned in, while HK's head jerked to the two of them.

"Where the skies end, the key will be found."

"_Where the skies end_," Cal echoed, but in the next moment, their commlinks both blared to life.

"_Cal, Eon_," Cere called, her voice begrudged. "_The Empire is here._"

Cal's eyes widened, but Xur's expression remained the same, waiting for more information.

"_Only one Star Destroyer, the same we saw over Zeffo_," she relayed.

That was all he needed to hear, and the presence that had appeared in the Force once Cere had called had a face. "It's Trilla. She found us," Xur confirmed.

"You're sure?" Cal asked.

Xur nodded with finality. "It's her. Cere, you should move the _Mantis_. You can't sit still like usual."

"_If we fire up the engines, they'll know where we are_."

"They already _know_ where you are," Xur denied. "If it's who I think it is, she'll have you pinged on a map before she sends any ground troops. Your best chance is to _keep moving_."

"What do you mean?" Cal asked, and Xur detected a level of mistrust peeking out again.

"That ISD we saw over Zeffo, that's the _Valkyrie_. Admiral Vorchenko's ship."

Cal's eyes flashed with slight recognition. "The one you fooled…the one who thought she'd killed you."

Xur nodded. It was good to hear his story was believable. "Yes, and she's here to tie up loose ends…with Trilla as her weapon."

Cal grumbled. "Dammit."

HK jerked its head. "Have you considered the skytrooper foundry, Master?"

"The what?"

"Skytrooper: a variant of battle droid used as the backbone of the Eternal Empire's military," HK explained. "There is a foundry nearby. If there are meatbags here to kill you, and you believe my protection is not enough, then I suggest we acquire…_reinforcements_."

Xur and Cal paused, slowly looking to each other, until BD trilled in agreement, confirming HK-69's idea.

"You get that Cere?" Cal asked.

"_I have no idea who that was, but it sounds like our only chance_," Cere answered. "_I suggest you come up with a distraction_."

"Heh, I can manage _that_," Cal reassured, but BD protested. "And BD, of course."

"I'll take HK then," Xur agreed. "We'll go find this foundry. Stay safe, Cal."

"I think I should be saying that to you," Cal warned, his eyes looking towards HK, before running out the door with his little droid on his back.

Once they were alone, HK leaned in. "Master, if you wish to designate a certain meatbag to my omega no-kill protocol, _for whatever reason_, I can do so for you."

Xur crossed his arms. "You can do that? Sure."

"I must caution you, Master," HK warned, and Xur tilted his head. "You may only designate one name."

Xur's eyes widened…and his emotional conflict returned.

"Choose _wisely_."

* * *

**The next chapter is where ALL the action is, so I hope you enjoyed this taste for what's to come. I know this story has been a little tame since The Revenant, but the big conflicts are right around the corner…and who knows what's in store for Xur, Trilla and Cal?**

**Thanks for reading! If you'd like, there is a poll currently at the top of my profile where you can input your opinion. It could decide what characters appear sooner!**


	12. Knights of the Fallen Order - Part II

**CHAPTER 9**

Knights of the Fallen Order  
Part II

"You'll never know what you're made of until you set foot down the road."

**Zakuul, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Gunship**

This planet felt _wrong_.

Trilla's mind hadn't changed since the gunship had hit the stratosphere. The Force felt _ancient_…screaming of dead ghosts and lost power…screaming of _failure_. It only reminded her of the helmet she had cleaved in half, and the cape she had set ablaze; punishment for their inability to serve her any longer. She knew, if she had come here as the masked droid she once was, she would surely face the same result…driven by the hunt, the methodical manipulation of her prey.

No more. Now, she was the apex predator, striking with overwhelming force that would make any who opposed her cower in fear…and ultimately _bow_ to her superiority.

The fear that Cal Kestis had lost when Xur Eon appeared, she was here to _restore_ it.

She stretched her senses beyond their flying craft, fighting past the chilling nature of this dead world…and felt her quarry. Just as the admiral had promised, they _both_ were here.

"Blaze," she called, the helmeted purge trooper standing at attention despite the shaking craft. "I believe your loyalty should be rewarded."

The rest of her squad, five other red and black armored men, all who had been present on Zeffo, had their heads turned her way as she faced them. "Lieutenant-Commander Blaze is my new second-in-command. If he gives you an order, it is as if _I_ had given it. Understood?"

"Understood, sir," they replied in unison.

When Trilla's eyes came back to Blaze, he bowed his head. "I won't let you down, ma'am."

She nodded, and considered turning back to face the cockpit, but felt a second wind…an instinctual one. "These fugitives we're chasing…they've killed many of your…of _our_ fellow men," she began, and she could feel the slight confusion from each of them but continued regardless. "Today…we can _stop_ them from taking any more from us. Today we can make all those who have betrayed us _bleed_. We can return the _favor!_"

There were a few cheers as her men caught on, some with stoic nods in approval.

"Let us make them remember who we are. For the Empire!"

"For the Empire!" all echoed, fists raised.

With renewed confidence, Trilla faced the cockpit once more, just as the gunship began its descent.

"Approaching drop zone, Second Sister," the pilot relayed, turning his head with a nod. "For the Empire."

She peered through the blast shield. Just as she predicted, the _Mantis_ was long gone. Cere had always been crafty when slicing encrypted transmissions, but her interference hardly mattered. Kestis and Eon would not leave here until they found what they came for, and their bolstered confidence after their victory on Zeffo would prove to be their downfall.

Shakily, the gunship set down, and the doors opened. Everyone jumped out, blasters raised to a dead world, and Blaze waved off the gunship once everyone was in position. Its downdraft blew through her hair as it ascended, but her eyes stayed focused on the broken skyline before her…and the durasteel skyway that branched off from the old landing pad.

Trilla keyed into her wrist comm. "Pilot, stay within range and search the skies. Do not engage the _Mantis_ if located. Contact me _first_."

"_Understood_."

She deactivated the device and took point with her men. "Follow me," she guided, and walked down the path, the six of them following in tow. The Force was _strong_ here…and her power was only enhanced with it.

Her crimson blade ignited…and she tasted _blood_.

* * *

**Zakuul, 14 BBY**

**Skytrooper Foundry**

Trilla was _here_…and she was getting closer.

Xur couldn't shake this awful feeling growing within him. Whether it was guilt or dread, he couldn't place, but neither of them boded particularly well for his preferred state of mind. For the sake of Cal's mission, as well as his decision-making, he needed to be impartial…free of assumptions, and clear-headed. Deep breaths, he took, _deep breaths_.

Nothing could stop his racing heart, the undeniable excitement of the coming battle, as well as the poorly placed desire to see Trilla's face once again…to have another chance at bringing her _home_.

Wishful thinking…_at best_.

He needed to get her out of his head. Cal's trust in him was already wavering, thanks to the ignorant lateron, and despite the zabrak's regular relationship with distrust, now was a truly horrid time for it.

But quite frankly, it was _impossible_. It was some feigned obligation to her, forced upon himself via his own stupidity and lack of better judgment. There were so many times he should've ended her life, and perhaps spared Cal the undeniable wrath he had unlocked within her; the only thing driving her ever further was the promise of sated vengeance…on _all_ her enemies. He could feel it. There was a rabid animal on the hunt for them both…and it _had_ to be her.

"Master," HK-69 called, still leading the way. "I am reading a heart rate increase. I can only deduce that you feel something exciting is incoming. When will I get to kill something?"

"Uh…soon enough, HK," Xur assured. His new droid friend had been useful thus far, but he was beginning to have concerns with his obvious obsession with killing…_meatbags_ as he called them. "The Empire will be on top of us soon."

"I do not know what this 'Empire' is, Master, but it sounds like a cesspool of meatbags that need to be slaughtered," HK replied.

Xur chuckled. "That's _one_ way to look at it. Why don't you tell me what happened to _your_ Empire?"

HK replied with what he could best describe as a snort in disinterest. "Who knows? My memory banks are quite _foggy_ after I was violently deactivated, impressively I might add, and I lack the emotional processing core to care about it."

"Well isn't that…interesting," Xur noted, somewhat annoyed at the uselessness of it all. "So, aside from your obvious obsession with murdering people, what are your other functions?"  
The droid kept pace, his blaster rifle held across his chest. "I have many functions, Master…not any I'd like to _use_."

"Tell me anyway."

"Very well. I am capable of translation and bodyguard protocol. Other than that I specialize in combat needs. You tell me to kill something, I kill it for you."

Xur groaned. "Yeah, yeah. Seems to be the only thing you're good at."

HK paused, facing Xur. "Master, you say that as if it is appalling. I have never understood this standpoint between you meatbags…it must be all the water."

"The what?"

"Within you organics…all that water. I think all the constant sloshing drives you mad, and gives you these insane ideas about…_pacifism_," the droid virtually shivered at the mention of the word.

"Do I come off as a pacifist to you?"

"Not particularly. I believe I may be in good hands…the _other_ meatbag, however."

The zabrak raised his hand and pointed forward. "HK…the foundry."

"Yes, yes, I apologize, Master," HK jerked his torso forward, continuing his walk. "It's not far from the Eternal Spire, the tallest building on Zakuul."

Xur's eyes narrowed, and he looked up. There were multiple buildings that breached the cloud cover, but the closest to the two of them was much skinnier once it hit the clouds…like a spire. He hadn't noticed it before…but with what HK had said.

"Is that it?" Xur pointed, and HK's eyes followed.

"Yes, Master," HK confirmed. "That is the Eternal Spire. Atop it is the throne room, a sphere suspended in space, just where the skies end."

He paused. "_Where the skies end?_"

"Yes, Master, where the skies end."

Leave it to a droid to _accidently_ figure everything out. Xur was quick, activating his wrist-comm. "Cal…I know where the Astrium is."

* * *

"I'm a little busy at the moment!" Cal shouted into his comm in a full sprint, jerking his head to dodge an incoming blaster bolt. BD stayed in the most compacted form he could, while a squad of scout and ranged troopers chased him through the empty streets.

"_What the hell did you do?_" Xur asked

Cal ducked into an alley, sparks burning at his clothing as bolts ricocheted off the durasteel wall. "Well…I uh…got their attention!" Quickly, he used a force-enhanced jump to grab ahold of a ledge, and then shimmied across, using his upper body strength to climb along the side of the building until he could get a proper foothold.

"_Dammit Cal, I said cause a distraction, not get yourself killed_."

Poorly aimed shots missed him completely as he finally reached the roof, out of reach for now. His hands had suffered minor cuts from the uneven and rusted metal, but nothing he couldn't deal with.

"You said you knew where the Astrium was?" he asked, kneeling behind a pyramid-shape protruding from the corner of the roof, blaster bolts pounding it from the side.

"_It's atop the Eternal Spire. Look around. It's the closest building to breach the clouds. Skinnier the higher it goes_."

Cal peeked around the skyline, but eventually found what Xur had described. "I think I see it, but it's a fair number of miles away. I'm going to need those reinforcements soon. I've got every stormtrooper riding my ass as we speak."

There was a moment of silence as his zabrak companion seemed to be conversing with HK, and Cal took that time to peer back around. Sure enough, his eyes locked on a red blade, flanked by a squad of purge troopers…one loading a rocket launcher.

"Oh…_fuck_ me," Cal grumbled, and BD trilled in warning. "Xur…Trilla's with them…and they got fucking rockets."

"_Shit_," Xur cursed. "_Keep moving and try to avoid her. HK says there's a station for the tram system near your location. He _claims_ that BD may be able to get it operational with a jump-start_."

"A _whole_ tram system?" Cal questioned, but BD gave him reassuring beeps. "You just need to get into the right conduit? Alright buddy, I'm going to trust you on this one."

In that moment, the firing stopped, but Cal didn't dare peek over just yet.

"_Padawan!_" Trilla shouted from below. "I _know_ you're there. Come out!"

Cal gulped somewhat, the undeniable anxiety returning from both times she had chased him down. Wherever he went, she was just behind him, nipping at his toes…and if felt as if his capture and defeat were inevitable.

_No. I am a Jedi. Now is the time to let go of my fear._

He stood and paced out from behind the pyramid, revealing himself to the 15 troopers down below, and Trilla, looking up to him. To his shock, her cape and helmet were gone…as well as that sadistic smirk she had carried when she had taunted him behind a ray shield on Zeffo. Unlike before, he felt no joy from her…just _raw_ emotion…instinctual reactions powering her every move.

"Had a bad feeling you'd show up here," Cal admitted, projecting his voice enough for her to hear.

Trilla only pointed her blade his direction. "The games are _over_, Padawan. Surrender now, or I will _kill_ you with a barbaric savagery you have never before witnessed."

"Afraid I can't do that, Trilla," Cal replied, his hilt in hand. "Thought you'd know better than to expect me to give in."

"I didn't," she growled, her grip on her hilt tightening, before slashing her hand through the air. "Fire!"

Cal's eyes widened as the trooper beside her launched their rocket, and only through a perfectly timed warning in the Force did he speed-dash to the edge of the roof and jump, the explosion virtually vaporizing where he last stood. Screaming as he fell, he barely grabbed ahold of side railing on the building next to him, his arms protesting as he was brought to a sudden stop. BD let out his equivalent to a scream.

"Hang on, BD!" he shouted as the building collapsed, metal screaming as the rusted supports finally gave in. Cal used his swinging momentum to jump to another railing and shimmied across until he could jump to a shorter building roof. Once he landed, he took off at a full sprint. "Xur! Xur, come in! Send BD the nav-point!"

Another rocket slammed into the building he just left, but this much taller one began to fall towards him, threatening to crush him like an afterthought. Once he reached the edge of the roof, he jumped without much choice, landing with a roll in the street below, his body protesting from the demanding endeavor.

"_Sent it!_" Xur responded as Cal did his best to quickly pick himself up. "_Are you alright? What's happening?_"

"She's insane!" Cal shouted back, BD displaying the holomap before him as the buildings around him continued to collapse. "She's literally fucking insane!"

"_Get to that tram, Cal!_" Xur urged. "_We're moving as fast as we can!_"

Cal didn't have time to respond, as once the holomap flickered away, he spotted Trilla in the corner of his eye, her blade ignited and sprinting his way. He picked himself up and ran towards the station, as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Get _back_ here!" Trilla shouted. "There's no escape, Padawan! You hear me?!"

Cal knew better than to waste his precious breath with a reply, as he was going to need it for the next half mile of running from a lunatic inquisitor…and Trilla was _fast_…unnaturally _fast_.

He'd just have to be faster.

Calming his breath as best he could, Cal reached within himself, redirecting his energy downwards and to his feet, and he soon felt himself moving quicker than humanly possible. Wind roared past his ears as a new burst of speed ripped the air in front of him, cutting through that space like a knife.

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

"I know, I know! I'm trying!" Cal replied. BD had warned that Trilla was gaining on him, despite his newfound power, but he could feel her. _Anyone_ who could feel the Force could. She appeared as a dark leviathan, roaring through the spiritual plane louder than any other creature nearby.

There…he could see it. Before him was a pathway that lead below into a darkened pavilion, and through shattered glass windows he spotted the track…and an inoperable tram at the station.

BD let out an ear-shattering trill.

"Find the conduit, BD!" Cal shouted, tossing the little droid forward. "Find the-," he was cut off by Trilla slamming into him from behind, taking him down _hard_. His nose _cracked_ against the durasteel floor, and the pain that followed convinced him that it had been fractured. Danger sense befell him, and only through a quick roll did Trilla's blade miss him as she stabbed downwards. Flipping onto his feet, Cal's blue blade ignited, and he locked with Trilla's crimson before she bisected his body.

Her strength was insane. With one heave, she pushed him back onto the floor, slashing downwards just slow enough for Cal to block it, but it required both of his hands to hold her back.

"You're going to _die_, Padawan!" she roared, proceeding to hammer him repeatedly with her blade, keeping him pinned to the floor. "Cere will be gifted _your head_ soon enough!" The rage she projected burned away at his very essence, and he felt as if there was nothing he could do against her raw strength and power.

But there was _always_ a cost.

Her swings continued…erratic but with a pattern, and her senses were _blinded_ by her undying rage. With timing, he rolled during her swing, and she kept going, falling forward enough for him to unleash a howling force push, in which she tumbled backwards before rolling back to her feet, giving him enough time to regain his own.

"Your rage has unbalanced you, Trilla," Cal warned. "You need to let it go!"

"_Let go?!_" she almost laughed hysterically. "I'm stronger than I _ever_ have been! Never!"

"He told me what happened to you," Cal continued, truthfully buying time for BD. "What you went through. We can help you!"

"It will be your undoing!" she screamed, her hilt flipping forward into a circle, and igniting the second blade with a spin. "As will your misplaced faith in a _betrayer!_"

The lights suddenly flashed on, and Cal heard the _whirr_ of machinery flaring back to life as the tram reactivated. With the increase in light level, it stunned Trilla long enough for Cal to make a break for the tram sitting at the station.

Trilla zipped forward, and Cal parried most of her attacks with ease, but her power was taking its toll on his stamina, as well as the required readjustment for her two blades. Pushing off when granted the chance, Cal ignited his second blade and went on the offensive, forcing her to roughly defend his spinning quick slashes from the dual blade.

"BD get that thing moving!" he ordered, and his droid companion hovered from the console as fast as he could…until Trilla created enough space between them to grab ahold of the droid with an outstretched hand…and began to close into a fist.

"_No!_" Cal screamed and swung with all his might, the impact forcing her to drop BD and hold him at bay with grit teeth. He sidestepped past her next swing and landed a solid kick to her chest, using her stunned time to slow her movements to a crawl with his own gesture. "Now!"

BD, at the tram's control console, activated the vehicle, and Cal leapt through the open windows and inside, just as it began to pick up speed. A sigh of relief came next, and he smiled to his little droid friend.

Until the sound of rumbling metal…and the slowing of their single-car tram.

Cal scrambled to his feet and looked out the back, seeing Trilla in the middle of the track with two hands outstretched, struggling to hold herself in place. "More power, buddy!"

_Boop beep!_

BD increased the current, and the rumbling only worsened, but Trilla began to slip up, trying everything in her power to hold it still.

No avail. The inquisitor lost her grip and was pulled forward, face-planting on the durasteel track as they raced away, losing sight of her within seconds.

Cal slid onto the floor, breathing heavily…the first full breath he had taken since that first rocket toppled that building. BD was still hooked up to the console but turned his head 180 degrees.

_Bo-peep?_

"I'm alright BD…thanks buddy."

The same could _not_ be said for Trilla…and he needed to tell Cere.

He tapped his earpiece, waiting for the signal to go through. "Cere…Cere, come in."

"_Cal! We read you,_" she answered, sounding relieved. "_We detected the explosions from up here. Are you alright?_"

Cal took another breath. "For now…yes…but, Cere…Trilla…"

He heard her pause and detected a hard swallow. "_What about her, Cal?_"

"What I deducted about her before…I…I was right…but something is _wrong_ with her Cere, something is _terribly_ wrong with her."

"_What do you mean?_"

Cal swallowed himself, realizing that he'd have to tell Xur as well. "Cere…I think she _cracked_."

* * *

_Well played._

_ I had a good teacher._

_ …too damn smart for your own good._

_ You're not as subtle as you think._

_ …such a thing as reckless generosity._

_ I can heal you!_

_ Trust me!_

_ And what have you been doing?_

_ Stay with the younglings, Trilla._

_ She betrayed you._

_ She abandoned you._

_ You are mine._

_ I promise to free you from this cage…_

_ What will it take for you to love me…?_

_ You need to let it go!_

_ Trilla._

_ Commander._

_ Second Sister._

_ Sister._

_ Sister._

_ Sister._

_ Inquisitor._

_ Sir._

_ Suduri. _

"_Ma'am?_"

Trilla's entire body jolted as if she had been hit with a defibrillator, and her eyes flashed into total focus, already picking herself up directly after her sudden revival. Her lips tasted of rusted metal, as well as blood, and as soon as her gloved hand hit her forehead, she knew her face was bleeding.

"_Ma'am? Are you there?_"

It was all a haze, but habit and instinct moved her finger to her wrist-comm. "C-commander…what is it?"

"_We lost you for a moment,_" Blaze replied.

She was so confused. Her vision may have shocked straight, but her mind was a jumbled mess, filled with nothing but broken memories and times long lost. In fact, she didn't even know where she _was_. All she could see was black, but behind her was a bright light. _Then_ she remembered…train tracks…a tram…a _Padawan_.

_Cal Kestis_.

Trilla forced herself to stand. She remembered seeing him atop a building…and then just seeing _red_. In all her years as an inquisitor, she had never desired to kill someone so _badly_…and she had lost _all_ control. A feigned attempt at getting her to let go of her hatred came next, then she almost crushed his droid before he slowed her…and she failed to stop the tram with her raw might.

"_Kestis_," she huffed into her wrist-comm, taking her first step down the track. "Find him, Commander."

"_We are searching as we speak, ma'am,_" Blaze assured. "_He can't have gotten far. It's good to hear you're still alive at least_."

"Spare me the…-," she caught herself, also remembering what had happened before. "…thanks. Follow the tram line. He's reactivated the old system. I'm going to follow it alone."

Blaze paused. "_I can send someone to meet you._"

"No," Trilla denied. "They'll just slow me down. You have your orders, Commander."

"_Yes ma'am. Blaze out._"

She cut the connection, her sluggish walk picking up as she regained herself. It didn't matter how far the tram had gone…she would catch it…and she would catch _him._

* * *

**Zakuul, 14 BBY**

**Eternal Spire**

"Master, the foundry is _this_ way."

Xur barely regarded HK-69's direction, as had been the case since Cal had shut off his comm. Whatever had happened between him and Trilla, it was projected _heavily_ in the Force; avatars of light and dark colliding in spectacular fashion…and only reinforced his own guilt. As Cal had described, Trilla had gone "fucking insane", word for word, which perfectly denoted the seriousness, as he hardly ever used foul language. It had been a…worry for Xur, especially after seeing the likes of the Third Si…of _Effa_, and her obvious mental ineptitude.

If he had learned anything as the Second Brother, it was that these inquisitors, while formidable, had their minds dangling over insanity via a thread, and it only took one slip-up for that thread to break. This had been especially the case with those who had been forced to the Dark Side; those who had been a shining example of the Jedi Order; avatars of compassion, kindness and defense…such as Effa. Trilla, while a good Jedi, was far from perfect, and with Cere's betrayal, probably required less _enticement_, which afforded her mind more room for error. _She_ had something to direct her hatred towards, while Effa had just been tortured to the point that her mind was completely lost, leaving behind only dark instinct.

_Another_ thing the Empire would answer for in time.

"Master," HK called again. "I am capable of performing psychological analysis. Do you require some?"

"No, HK," Xur waved off, his eyes still locked on the clouds above. "There's just…there's something up there for me."

"Is it this Astrium you keep referring to?" the droid asked. "The other meatbag seemed to become aroused every time he mentioned it."

Xur's brow raised, and he finally looked to HK. "_Aroused?_"

"Yes. Aroused: to evoke or awaken, commonly used to describe-."

"I know what it's commonly used for HK, which is the reason why I wonder you chose to use _that_ word."

HK's expressionless face was able to project dumbfound regardless. "Would you prefer the term _excited?_"

"Yes, very much so."

There was silence as Xur returned his attention above, and HK's head jerked back and forth.

"Is this because you were _aroused_ when the meatbag mentioned the name of the female as she-."

"Alright, enough!" Xur protested.

"Shutting up now, Master."

Honestly, had his mind not been so preoccupied with the undeniable call to the top of that spire, he might've laughed at the droid's attempt at comedy.

It was _strong_…ancient…omnipotent…_eternal_.

"I have to go up there," Xur finally said. "Alone."

"Alone?" HK echoed. "I must object Master!"

"You can _object_ all you like, but _you're_ a droid, so you'll do as I say," he almost growled. "Get to the foundry, activate the skytroopers. This was _your_ idea anyway. Once you do that, find…_the other meatbag_ and protect him. If he dies, I'll melt you down, got it?"

HK's head slowly nodded. "Affirmative. Does this mean I get to kill something for you?"

Xur sighed, making his way up the steps to the spire's base. "Anything wearing white or black and red armor, feel free to kill."

"Oh! Thank you Master!" HK praised, sounding purely elated. "I will not let you down!"

"I'm sure," he said without a backwards look, leaving the droid as he entered the spire building. In perfect honesty, the zabrak didn't mind HK much at all, despite the constant worship treatment, something he had _never_ cared for, and envisioned the droid being quite useful in the future.

_If_ his combat skills were truly as great as he described, not that he imagined the droid having much success against an inquisitor, probably an unfair expectation. Although he swore he read something in the archives…something about HK units killing Jedi…

Most likely Jedi that _deserved _to be killed.

The lack of light shrouded his surroundings in darkness, and before long he was forced to ignite his red blade. Immediately, he was greeted to the sight of worn golden lining along the walls, only specs remaining from its crusted, but most likely false, extravagance. Fabric was sprayed along his path, torn to shreds or simply aged to a point of deterioration, but it was impressive to see it around, nonetheless. A swamp world such as this, especially if their climate control systems were no longer functioning, could face torrential and devastating weather.

How the spire was still standing was another mystery.

Xur progressed through many halls, doing his best to follow the faint call in the Force that kept nagging him. Not recently had something so insignificant earned such a sharp reaction from him…but this he couldn't walk away from…it was…_fated_.

After many minutes of navigating a labyrinth of grand halls and sections of the building, he came to a circular turbolift, large enough to support perhaps a battalion of troops. Its architecture was glass-based…and somehow unblemished.

His boots hit the lift, and expected nothing to occur, but he was nearly blinded by the sudden flash of lights in a circular motion around the platform and jolted out of a reverie by the sound of machinery coming back to life.

"What the…" he trailed off; his lightsaber pointed at air. The elevator than began to ascend, nearly knocking him off his feet from the sudden movement before he regained his balance, traveling up the spire at a high speed. His surroundings were mostly darkness, until the shaft gave way to glass, and a view of the planet around him as he gained altitude.

He was ascending the spire at an incredible speed…and the feeling he experienced was increasing exponentially.

Holding his blade ignited, he broke cloud cover within seconds, and soon watched the sky blue become black, illuminated by the countless stars in the universe. The spire stretched from the ground and into _space_ itself…but soon his view was obstructed once more.

The turbolift stopped, and lights illuminated one by one the path forward.

Never before had he experienced such an aberration in the Force, magnetically drawn down the path as if he had walked many times before. Despite his reservation, he paced with purpose and out of habit, virtually mindless as the door approached.

And then…that feeling…became a pit in his stomach.

Xur opened the door…revealing an extravagant throne room, encased in a gigantic glass sphere that separated false atmosphere from the vacuum of space. It was truly a sight to behold…until his eyes fell upon the throne.

"_Xur Eon_," The First Sister called, her mask projecting a voice he knew too well. "Welcome."

* * *

Cal jumped from the tram car as BD cut the power landing at the spire station highlighted on the map Xur's HK unit had transferred. The pit in his stomach that he had felt on Zeffo had returned, _after_ fighting Trilla, which worried him. He knew Cere's former apprentice wasn't dead…and perhaps this was something else. As he and BD ascended the stairs and back to the above level, the feeling only worsened, as he was greeted to the view of the spire base, and no one there to meet him.

That wasn't the plan…and Xur certainly should've reached the base by now.

"Xur, come in," he tapped into his earpiece. "I'm at the spire base. Where are you?"

No response. All he received was static.

_Whoooo. Oooooooo._

"Yeah, I'm worried too, BD," Cal admitted, switching the frequency. "Cere…Greez…come in. Someone, come in!"

There were footsteps…coming from the stairs he had just ascended.

"We're not _finished_, Padawan," Trilla growled, appearing before him, one side of her face covered in her own blood.

Strangely enough, Cal wasn't terrified…he was _annoyed_.

"You…you jammed my comms," he deducted. "You _wanted_ me to come here. Was this your plan all along?"

Trilla only spat, holding her hilt at her side as she circled him. "You truly have the wits of a _scrapper_."

Cal had his master's hilt in his hand, circling her in the opposite movement. "And you've gone _insane_. How did you even _get_ here?"

The inquisitor breathed heavily, and Cal noticed that much of her energy must've been spent catching up to him. "There are things about the Force that a failed Padawan like yourself could never _possibly_ understand. The Dark Side is a powerful tool for achieving the…_unnatural_."

"It's tearing you apart, Trilla. Can't you see that?" Cal insisted. "On Bracca, you had control, but now…now you're just a rabid animal."

"Your misplaced pity _disgusts _me," she scowled. "Besides…Eon promised to meet you here…did he not?"

Cal's gaze hardened.

"And where is he now, Padawan?" she approached, both of her blades igniting. "Did he…_betray_ you…just as I promised he would?"

_Enough of this_.

Cal's own blue blade illuminated the night. "You're twisted, Trilla."

"I am," she answered, marching forward. "It is what _Cere_ made me!"

They both lunged.

* * *

"_At last_," the First Sister enunciated as she slowly rose from the ancient throne, its majesty lost to time. "You have come to _continue_ your training."

Xur wasn't as stunned to see her here as he probably should've been, but how she had come to Zakuul without him knowing, especially a being so _dark_, was nothing short of impressive.

But he wasn't here to give compliments.

"Haven't you heard?" Xur asked, slowly pacing down the long path that lead to the throne's platform. "Training's over. I'm out now."

"Oh, I am well aware of your deception," she replied, her augmented voice through her almost skull-like mask whispering to his very soul. "Although, I find it interesting that you believe anything has _changed_."

Xur cocked his head. "_Well_, I guess there are processing fees for information, which could delay the word spreading around. Maybe you should pick up the premium package next time."

She actually _laughed_ at that. "Such a powerful wit. Your confidence has elevated to a point in which you are beginning to believe yourself _invincible_," she hit the bottom of the steps, and the two of them stood off on opposite ends of the path. "Comparing yourself to the Imperial slaves of the Inquisitorious is not only a pathetic lack of vision, but also…_disappointing_."

"Imperial slaves, huh?" Xur mused. "Aren't you one of those as well?"

She snorted in amusement. "I serve no one, but _myself_. My interests are all that matters to me, not those of the mechanical monster who calls himself Sith, or the crippled and deformed slime that sits atop a throne of dead Jedi. Their power may be formidable, but my _vision_ stretches beyond _anything_ they could possibly comprehend."

The zabrak nearly laughed out loud. "_You_ think you're more powerful than the Sith? If that's true, then why bother posing as an Inquisitor?"

"For the same reasons you did. What better place to hide than beneath the feet of your enemies, posing as something so insignificant that you become beneath them in their eyes. They become _blind_ to you, and a Sith cannot kill what they cannot see."

"If you could kill Darth Vader," the name itself elicited _strong_ hatred within him. "You would've done it by now. Why wait?"

Her chuckle slithered across his spine. "There it is…your _hatred_ for the Sith Apprentice is _potent_…"

Xur's mind began to fumble, and for the first time in many years, a mental attack brought him to his knees. He grunted, shoring up his mental barrier with all his might, but she was _strong_, and he wheezed as his defenses began to fall.

"Do not struggle…" the First Sister eased, her head raising upwards. "Let me follow the current…_deep_…_deeper_…"

"Get…out," drool seeped from his mouth as Xur tried to fight her off. "Of…my…"

"And the why…" she rambled, before her head straightened, and the attack stopped. "_Ah_. Now it _all_ falls into place."

* * *

Blue and red clashed into flashes of bright yellow and orange, the glows becoming purple between the two combatants. Trilla was much more controlled in this exchange, as opposed to the blind frenzy she had resorted to in their original clash. This time, Cal found himself on the offensive, thoroughly fed up with dealing with her at his back since Bracca; her constant taunts, her blatant insult to his fallen master, and the obvious threat she posed to every child listed on Cordova's holocron.

In this moment of emotion, he didn't care who she was anymore, only that she needed to be _stopped_.

They had a drawn-out exchange of blocks and slashes, neither one able to create space as the normal aggressor had to readjust to her weaker specialty in defense, while the Jedi uncharacteristically pressed forward, his blade slamming into hers with much more intensity. Feeling her defenses wavering, Trilla kicked off of Cal's chest and backflipped on to her feet, creating enough space between the two to earn her a breather.

"Is this rage I feel from you, Padawan?" she questioned, deftly twirling her blade in front and behind her in a mesmerizing fashion.

"Are you still talking?" Cal retorted and lunged forward, forcing Trilla to defend once again. "All you ever do is talk, talk, talk."

_Now_ he was getting lippy, and Trilla didn't care much for _that_.

Trilla parried off a saber lock and went on a daring and quick attack, her two blades cutting through the air at an incredible speed as she engaged the spinning mechanism. Cal did his best to readjust, but her sudden attack caught him off guard, barely stopping her blade before it severed his arm. She took advantage, pulling her blade away and sending him tumbling to the ground with a force push.

Cal brushed it off, but Trilla was already advancing upon him, her blade raised.

A sonic wave ripped through the air, engulfing Trilla completely before knocking her backwards and onto the artificial floor.

"Back off female," HK-69 warned as he landed, his jetpack winding down. "The Master said if this one dies; he'll melt me down."

Cal huffed, rising to his feet as he shook off his fall. "Uh…thanks, HK."

"Don't get sentimental. I am merely following a directive."

Trilla rubbed her ear, seemingly attempting to stop them from ringing any further. "You _cunt_ of a droid," she threatened. "I'll-, ugh!" she gasped as HK kicked her hilt from her hand, his durasteel foot threatening to break her fingers. Cal watched it grind along the flooring, out of reach for her.

"Red and black armor," HK confirmed, aiming his blaster. "Die, meatbag."

Cal was about to reach out and stop the droid…but nothing happened. He just stood there, his metal boot holding Trilla down…but as if he was locked in stasis mode.

_Beep doop pree?_

"I don't know," Cal answered BD. "HK?"

Trilla breathed heavily, perplexed herself, before HK finally popped his head upwards. "Well isn't this unfortunate."

"_Huh?_" Cal and Trilla replied in unison.

HK stopped pointing his blaster. "It appears I am mechanically incapable of killing you."

"And why is that?" Trilla asked, too stunned by the turn of events to ask herself why it mattered anyway.

"Xur Eon, my master, has placed you on my omega no-kill protocol," HK answered, and Cal's eyes widened. "You should count yourself lucky. Only one name can be placed on that list."

Stunned silence followed…and then came gradual chuckling.

Then…Trilla laughed.

_Hysterically_.

"Don't you…don't you see, Padawan?" Trilla taunted, struggling to contain her reaction to the news. "You're surrounded by _betrayers_," she then went into another hysterical laughing fit, and Cal could only crane his head to one side, stunned that Greez was actually right.

Xur had chosen _her_ over _him_.

"My humor algorithms cannot deduct how this is worth laughing over," HK rambled as she continued to laugh. "Especially with my foot about to collapse your-," a blaster bolt ripped through his chassis, silencing Trilla, and with the cold reaction of a droid, his body flipped and contorted, aiming and firing his blaster with mechanical and lightning precision. His shot hit home, but a purge trooper's armor was built to sustain hits from lightsabers, and had little trouble warding off one bolt.

"Step away from her, _droid_," Blaze spat, his rifle raised and followed by the contingent of troopers that had chased after Cal before. "Surrender, Jedi!"

Cal's teeth grit as he slowly backed off, but HK made no such moves. "It is not possible to harm this…_human_. It is suggested that you run while my rifle recharges, meatbags."

Trilla groaned. "For fuck sake, gun it down!"

Many of the regular stormtroopers raised their blasters, but in the next moment a fireteam of them were vaporized by a flurry of rockets, followed by the sound of booster rockets and raining blasterfire. Cal witnessed the iron-clad skytrooper droids descend from the sky, six of them in all, their skull-like heads menacing just to look at.

"Oh…I may have forgot to mention the skytroopers I commandeered," HK continued, until Blaze plowed into him from the side, taking the droid down boldly and removing it from atop Trilla.

Her eyes moved to her hilt out of reach…as did Cal's.

They both reached out.

* * *

"I see it all now," the First Sister mused, her glowing red optics fixed on a kneeling Xur, whose hands were still holding his own head. "Why he wanted _her_. Why you hate _him_."

"What _are_ you?" Xur heaved, feeling his mind return to his own control.

"As I said before, but you have not listened…you already know who I am," she hinted. "My veil of secrecy has not fallen like yours, but it is not as impenetrable as you are convinced."

"Listen lady…," he breathed, rising to his feet, hilt in hand. "I have _no idea_-."

"_Yes you do!_" she insisted, and it might as well have been an ear-splitting scream to the zabrak. He fell to his knees once more, this time his mind reaching for images from his past…images he had buried forever.

_Mama!_

_ Stay back, son! I have to do this!_

_ Nooooo!_

Xur groaned. "Get."

_Mamaaaaa!_

_ Come with me. I have to get you someplace safe!_

_ Stay here…just stay here._

"Out."

_Who left you here, little one?_

_ Come now, let's find you a home._

"…of my _HEAD!_" Xur screamed, unleashing a leveling force repulse attack that had the First Sister raise both hands in defense, brought to her knees. The zabrak roared, leaping through the air with his crimson blade ignited, and he landed with a clash of her own's sudden reveal. "I'll kill you!"

"If you must struggle…" she defended herself against his force-enhanced, dark side fueled onslaught, utilizing the most devastating use of Form VII he could muster, but she reacted as if she had seen it before. "Then writhe in agony!"

The First Sister sidestepped his errant swing and poured lightning from her fingers, enveloping him completely in the electrical surge. Its power launched him backwards, knocking his saber from his hand…which was the least of his worries.

It felt as if he was being frozen to death and melted alive. His muscles were completely useless, and all he experienced was _pain_.

"If you wish to play at being an inquisitor, then suffer as she did," she said through his screams. "Experience what had broken her…and feel it break _you_."

Xur couldn't _feel_ anything, not until she finally relinquished her attack. Despite its end, he still couldn't move. Whatever she had done, it had paralyzed him, as well as numbed all of his outside senses. Never before had he felt such agony, his throat devastated, lungs scorched.

All he heard was footsteps behind him, while his body continued to emit static.

"You hate him…because you _knew_ him," she continued, looking down upon him until she knelt. "Anakin Skywalker was your most trusted ally, your closest friend."

Xur growled, his senses returning, trying to rise before being hit with another burst of lightning that silenced him again.

"_Listen!_ You will learn to listen…and if I must take every sense from you, I will do so," she warned, and by now he was too weak to object. "Don't you wonder why he found _her_ so quickly?"

He made no movement.

The First Sister leaned in, her voice a whisper. "Vader _knew_ her, just as you knew him."

* * *

Trilla's saber was suspended in the air, she and Cal wrestling for possession of it as the fight between her men and the skytroopers raged. Neither of them gave an inch, their commitment equal, determination stalwart.

Another sonic blast barraged Trilla, and she relinquished her hold, covering her ears as it ravaged her senses. The hilt smacked into Cal's hand and he rose, marching towards her with a pace of victory…until his limbs seized. His mind felt as if it was hijacked, psychometry tearing through him like a raiding party…showing him nothing but _despair_…_agony_.

Cal fell to his knees, and he saw it.

He saw _everything_.

* * *

"Vader knew the scope of her abilities, and with the Jedi dead, she was the last of their kind," the First Sister explained. "No one immersed within the Dark Side can heal wounds. It is a power exclusive to that of a practitioner of the light…and the Dark Lord was desperate."

"He brought her before a woman…

* * *

Cal saw everything through Trilla's eyes. The day Cere tried to lure the Imperial patrol away from their position…the day Trilla had been captured…and then:

_Trilla was dropped onto the durasteel grate, taking in full breaths at last. She coughed and choked, finally free of the hands that had never been there. Tears poured from her face, robes torn and shredded from being dragged along various surfaces, her knees, knuckled and elbows bloodied and blistered._

_ His breathing never faltered, and each breath that monster emitted was another paralyzing chill down her spine. Tentatively, her eyes paced the dark room…seeing only a medical table…and a body atop it._

_ "Rise," the monster commanded, and she was grabbed by the two white-armored men, jabbing her with stun sticks at their leisure._

_ "On your feet, skank," one of them taunted, stunning her again. "Weakling little traitor."_

_ "Ha ha!" the other continued, joining in, then monster not moving to interrupt their needless breach of her dignity. "Can't wait to break you open."_

_ Trilla tried to resist, but it was only met with more electrocution, and one step from the monster had her frozen in place. She trembled, fear ravaging her every being. "W-what do you want?"_

_ "Bring her back, or suffer," he answered, pointing to the body. The troopers stunned her more as they forced her to turn, shoving her to the edge of the table. Her blurred vision looked upon the limp but tranquil body of a human female, younger than thirty. The woman's long, brown hair was her most obvious feature, but she had never seen her before. _

_ Trilla knew what she could do…but raising the dead._

_ "I…I can't-."_

_ She was suspended in the air once more, clawing at her throat. "You will," the monster threatened. "Or you will know nothing but agony."_

_ He dropped her once more, and again she had to suffer the indignities forced upon her by his guards before she looked over the woman again. Trilla tried, reaching out…doing everything in her power to awaken the dead being beneath her hands…but there was no life to transfer to. It was like pouring water onto dead plants, seeping back into the dirt and being lost forever._

_ She tried, and she failed._

Cal only heard tortured screaming…_her_ screaming…afterwards.

* * *

"_Padme_," Xur gasped, his voice stricken and gone.

"_Ah_," the First Sister realized. "Senator Amidala…_of course_. Oh, my Lord, you _truly_ are pathetic."

The zabrak's eyes couldn't even produce tears…and the only thing he wanted to do was cry. He had _failed_ her; subjected Trilla to extraordinary suffering because he wasn't strong enough to kill Anakin when he had the chance.

"But that isn't the _only_ reason you tortured her, was it?" the First Sister asked rhetorically, her thoughts processing out loud. "You knew the depths of his…feelings for her, so you made her suffer…you made them _all_ suffer, to make _him_ suffer."

A tear finally emerged from Xur's eye, just as the First Sister looked back to him. Unexpectedly, she reached out with her gloved hand, and gently wiped it away.

"And for that, my Lord, you will pay _dearly_."

The zabrak suddenly felt himself suspended, and the First Sister began to walk towards the turbolift, levitating his form above the ground.

"Come with me, and we shall begin."

* * *

_"Trilla…" Cere gasped, restrained in the exact model chair Trilla herself had suffered in for an unquantifiable amount of time. She stood before her former master, dressed in the garments the Empire had gifted her…for the role she had submitted to._

_ A trooper before her presented the helmet of the Second Sister, in which she took without hesitation. She was ravaged by hatred, seeing nothing but restrained red towards the broken woman before her…and could taste her revenge in the air._

_ The time had come._

_ "No…" Cere pleaded, but Trilla didn't care, she lifted the helmet and slid it over her face, letting it lock in place for her betrayer to see._

_ The Second Sister had been born._

_ "NOOOO!" Cere bellowed, and a dark wave in the force tore through the air. Trilla felt the deaths of all the troopers within the room, and she herself collapsed, barely clinging to life from the attack._

_ From her blurred vision…she watched Cere free herself, the Dark Side fueling her every step, and leave her there to die. _

_ Trilla would find her…and she would end her…permanently._

Cal's shivering finally stopped, and his vision returned to reality.

There was silence. He saw skytrooper bodies surrounding him, lifeless and deactivated, critical parts shot to oblivion…and beyond them were the scattered parts of Imperial troops blown to pieces, or their cold, dead bodies sprawled out on the ground.

As his senses returned, he rose to his feet, and was shocked by the image of HK-69's lifeless body dropped before him…in a position of defense. BD stood over the assassin droid; his optics focused…his demeanor of despair.

"BD…" Cal called to his little friend, who looked up to him. "What happened?"

_Dooooooo. Beep boop pree deet deet. Booooooo._

"He…defended me…until the last man?" he translated, and watched BD desperately try to reactivate the droid, but to no avail. "Don't worry buddy…we'll fix him…I promise."

BD then turned his head, looking past the bodies, and Cal followed.

Trilla was sitting, her back against a durasteel wall…still alive. She was _covered_ in blood, and her left arm hung uselessly beside her, two purge trooper bodies sprawled out in front of her feet. Cal could feel her agony, and his eyes keyed on her right hand, pressing a blaster wound just below her rib cage.

"Trilla…" Cal eased, approaching her. The inquisitor's already heaving breaths quickening as her yellowing eyes locked on his. "Easy," he said, returning his blade to his belt, but keeping hers as he raised his hands. "_Easy_. I saw what you've been through…I saw everything."

"_Back away_," she warned through grit teeth, even if Cal knew she was unable to defend herself. "Save your pity!"

"Trilla, you need help," Cal insisted, and BD came up alongside his feet. "You're going to die."

"Maybe I _want_ to die!" she growled, and Cal took a step back. "Do not force me to experience the indignity of being saved by Cere's _replacement_ as her pet."

He went slowly, taking a knee. "BD, a stim?"

"_Leave me be!_" Trilla roared.

"Back away from her, Jedi," a blaster clicked, and Cal quickly rose to his feet, his hands raised. One purge trooper had survived, the same that had tackled HK before Cal was subjected to Trilla's past.

"She needs help, now," Cal insisted.

"I know," Blaze nodded, keeping his blaster pointed. "Back away."

The Jedi wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could do from here, and he accepted that, giving in to the trooper's commands. Blaze honored that, dropping his weapon and removing his helmet, kneeling beside her. In all honesty, he was in no better condition than she, but he pressed on, trying to tend to her wounds.

Cal admired that…something he didn't expect.

"Blaze…just let me go," she almost begged, her eyelids shutting.

"Not on my watch, ma'am," he shook his head, pulling her limp hand from her wound. It was a blaster shot that had ripped straight through her, but in the best spot for her to survive. "Just hold still."

While Blaze tended to her, the _Mantis_ swooped in from above, landing at the base of the tower with haste. Cal left the two of them, running to HK's body and cradling the model in his arms, running awkwardly to the loading ramp. Cere was there to meet him.

"Cal!" she greeted, but he took no time for it.

"Take this inside," Cal handed off to her. "I'll explain later."

"What the hell is that?" Greez asked, appearing from the cockpit. "Just set it on the floor. We need to get out of here."

"Wait!" Cal insisted, his eyes turning back to Trilla and Blaze, who were preoccupied at the moment. "We can't just leave her."

Cere's anxiety sparked in the Force. "Cal…"

"I saw it, Cere," he presented her blade, still held tightly in his hand. "I saw what you _both_ went through…we have to help her."

Greez raised two of his arms to get Cal's attention. "Kid, your zabrak friend is gone…taken by someone we couldn't identify. We don't have time to-."

Cal slashed his hand through the air, not caring at all for the man who had left him for dead. "_I_ can help her, and I will!" he silenced them both, and marched down the ramp…with Cere in tow.

"Just hold this there," Blaze pointed, and Trilla complied, pressing a towel soaked in bacta against her blaster hit. She could feel herself slipping regardless, her senses dulling as her body began to process her last moments. No healing could save her now, and she was content with that.

Her lieutenant commander rose to his feet as others approached, and her hearing faded in and out as her vision began to dissipate. Despite being at her last moments, her vision focused just enough on a humanoid blur…approaching her.

_Cere._

Trilla's rage exploded.

She screamed, jumping to her feet and extending her arm towards the sky…unleashing the power with her.

All three living beings, Cal, Cere _and_ Blaze fell to their knees, feeling their life force sucked from their very essence and into Trilla…who had lost all control.

"_Death_…_Field_," Cere recognized, unable to rise. Trilla Suduri, the last living practitioner of the force healing technique, had finally _cracked_, her unique power corrupted into the most barbaric form.

_This_ was the cost of all her mistakes…her gifted Padawan turned to a weapon right before her eyes.

Trilla's wound sealed, and she felt herself breathe easy again. She…she was going to _live_.

"Trilla…no!" Blaze gasped and dropped to the ground.

Her eyes widened.

Cal took that moment to unleash a force push, knocking Trilla to the ground and ending her onslaught, giving him and Cere a chance to run for the _Mantis_.

Trilla regained her senses again as the ship took off, leaving her alone with the dead. She rose to her feet…and saw Blaze, sprawled out on the durasteel ground.

He coughed, and she fell to her knees, propping up his head in her arms. "Trilla Suduri…it has been an…_honor_…"

"No," she shook her head, emotions running raw at the sight of him. "No, I'm not relinquishing your service yet."

"Sorry…ma'am," he apologized, and her eyes widened as she felt his breathing slow. "I always knew this job was a…one-way…"

Blaze's eyes glossed over…lifeless.

"No," Trilla denied, shaking her head. His wounds hadn't even sung to her…not even the muffled gag she had experienced with Effa. "_No_," she repeated, shaking his body. "No, no, no, no!"

Tears filled her eyes, and she let them rain over his body.

* * *

**That…was intense.**

**I really have no words. Not even I expected all this.**

**I hope you're enjoying this story…because it's becoming an absolute blast to write.**

**Thanks for reading. Who the fuck knows what'll happen next.**


	13. The Leviathan

**CHAPTER 10**

The Leviathan

"Everywhere the human soul stands between a hemisphere of light and another of darkness; on the confines of the two everlasting empires, necessity and free will."

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Medical Bay**

"Why haven't you said anything?"

Trilla didn't have an answer for that question, or why she had even walked into Effa's room in the first place. She had simply appeared at her door, much to her counterpart's joy, walked in and sat down in the same chair she had before. Since, she had let Effa express whatever thoughts she had bouncing off her dual personality and proceeded to rub the palm of her gloved hand with her thumb…something she hadn't done since she was a Jedi.

"Blaze died," Trilla finally revealed.

Effa didn't react much at all, aside from turning over in her bed, propping up her head with her fist to get a proper look at her visitor.

"That's like saying it rained on Kamino."

She bit back a retort, not in the mood to argue with the likes of two people within one brain. "_I_ killed him."

"You…you did?" Effa's face turned to sadness and despair, before just as suddenly snapping into a sadistic smirk. "Did you have an armor cam active? I want to see!"

Trilla just didn't answer her, knowing it would save her a lot of breath. "Effa…there's something about me you don't understand, and I'm sorry to admit that in your _current_ state even less so."

Effa blew air through her mouth like a torrent, flopping onto her back like a spoiled child. "I guess I'll just lay here until my next meds are due, twirling my thumbs…_ugh_ I would _kill_ for a couple of insurgents to interrogate right now!"

Honestly, Trilla could go for a change of pace as well. Her chase after Cal Kestis had only resulted in repeated failure and dogmatic doubt in her own abilities…all in the pursuit of what? If she _had_ succeeded in capturing some meaningless padawan she had stumbled upon on Bracca, what would it matter?

They'd just tell her to return to her crap assignments from before.

Since Zeffo, she had placed her focus _solely_ on making Cere pay for betraying her, and in the process, she had forgotten what the catalyst to her imbalance in the first place had been. Cal Kestis was just a child with a lightsaber, a weak instrument to her revenge against her former master.

And yet, what would _truly_ bring her back into balance was _gone_; disappeared without a trace. Xur Eon had somehow escaped her focus, and in that, she had lost him, perhaps forever. She had no idea if he was dead, captured or something else. All Trilla _did_ know was who was responsible…and she had no idea what the First Sister could possibly have planned for him.

Internally, she felt it…the need to pursue him…the _desire_.

_You are mine_.

Trilla's teeth grit, feeling herself snap back into place, her eyes gloss over and reprogram themselves…until the opening of the door pulled her out.

Vorchenko walked in, her eyes squarely on Trilla. "Inquisitor. I insist you come with me immediately."

"_Awww_," Effa whined. "The Admiral always ruins all the fun."

Shaking herself out of her trance, she rose to her feet. "What is it?"

Vorchenko's eyes darted to the left, towards the door, and it didn't take Trilla long to understand her point. The two of them left Effa back to her solitude, free from her prying ears. Officers nearly plowed into her as they came into the hall, and she could sense that something unusual was occurring.

"Admiral?" she asked.

"We need to prepare you," Vorchenko insisted, grabbing ahold of her upper arm to pick up the pace. "Quickly."

"_Admiral_," Trilla stopped, forcing her to do so as well. "Enough dodging."

"Would you prefer to displease Lord Vader?" she maintained her firm grip, her blue-violet eyes piercing through Trilla's own gale. The inquisitor only swallowed hard, her throat sucking itself dry at the mere mention of his name. "I thought not. Now follow me."

The inquisitor complied, and in the Force, she felt that chilling cold that had followed the monster of her worst nightmares.

Vader was coming _here_.

* * *

**Ziost, 14 BBY**

**Unknown**

_Xur awoke, his eyes fluttering open to seeping sunlight through thin drapes, a cool breeze flowing through the room. Never before had he felt so relaxed, and he only found himself sinking deeper into the mattress. His aches became soothing, leading to a growing smile across his face._

_ Someone groaned and shuffled on the other side of the bed, and he rolled over, his arms wrapping around them tightly. The woman stirred, grunting somewhat at his sudden touch._

_ "Good morning," he greeted, burying his nose in her black hair._

_ Trilla moaned with pleasure as he kissed her neck, eventually rolling over to face him. "Good morning."_

_ Her unblemished face and jade-green eyes brought an ease to the zabrak he could never put into words, and he couldn't resist pressing his lips against hers in a moment of pure bliss._

_ Trilla bit her lip once they pulled away. "You're awfully lively this morning."_

_ Xur shrugged. "Strategic planning with imbeciles will do that to you."_

_ She smiled and giggled. "I warned you about politicians. They only commit to anything if it's a sure victory. No tactical ability whatsoever."_

_ The zabrak groaned, rolling over to face the ceiling. "Sometimes I just want to…throw it all out and start over."_

_ Trilla shrugged herself. "I guess you could turn that HK droid of yours against them."_

_ "Are you kidding me? He'd slaughter them, and any other sorry bastard in the room," Xur shook his head. "That's more like 'clean slate'."_

_ She giggled again, inching towards him as he continued to stare at the ceiling, his thoughts elsewhere at the moment. Tenderly, she let her hand glide along his side and up to his chest, rising goosebumps of pleasure through him._

_ "I love it when you're here…with me," she said._

_ He turned to face her, losing himself in her eyes once more. "I'm sorry I can't be…please don't hate me for it."_

_ Trilla shook her head, placing her hand on his cheek. "I've never hated you, Xur."_

* * *

Xur's arms were wrapped tightly around a body as he awoke, but much to his dismay, it was merely a bundle of sheets. In the moment of realization that what he experienced was only a dream, his heart fell, and he could only reach out to the cold, unoccupied sheets beside him. Trilla was _there_…and they were in the same bed…_together_, not trying to _murder_ each other. It was almost crueler for his subconscious to make him experience such a thing, just to take it away, perhaps forever.

He didn't even know if she was still _alive_, or _any_ of them for that matter.

Why was he in bedsheets?

"What the…" he mumbled to himself, shuffling through the bed as his surroundings began to sink in. "_fuck?_"

Xur had awoken in a bedroom, extravagant at that, with expensive and no doubt valuable pieces of furniture arranged around it. The color scheme was mostly deep blues and occasional violets, while everything else was either a dark gray or black. All of it was throwing him for a loop…where in the galaxy was he?

Even his clothes were different than he remembered, best described as dark Jedi robes, instead of the mining or scrappers uniform he had been wearing…he wasn't sure _what_ Cal had given him.

The zabrak rolled off the bed and stood, his light boots sinking into the thick rug below him. Aside from lying back in bed, the only other viable option he had was to approach the lone door…and he did. His hand reached for his saber hilt, but there was nothing, and immediately he had felt more naked than ever before. _Never_ had he gone _anywhere_ without his lightsaber.

Tentatively, he grasped the knob, but he felt an undeniable unease at the absence of his weapon, something he wasn't used to.

Who was he kidding? He had the _Force_.

With renewed confidence, superficial or not, he turned the knob and rolled into a hallway, hands raised in a combat stance, only to find that no one was there. Judging by the continued surroundings, he was beginning to believe he was in someone's _home_.

Xur tiptoed his way through the hall, trying his best to make as little noise as possible, before finding a living room beyond a corner, in which he took cover behind. Sensing no one in the room, he quickly turned and dashed through the hallway.

He was tripped up as soon as he entered the living room, readjusting his fall with a roll, and spun around to face where the disturbance came from.

"If you're quite finished letting the _entire planet_ know you're sneaking around, I suggest you have a seat," a masked woman, who he somewhat recognized, suggested, her hands behind her back.

Xur was dumbfounded. "How did I not sense you here?"

"Ah…did you _really_ stretch your feelings, or were you so consumed with your lust for combat that you had blinded yourself to a much closer threat?"

That _voice_…_now_ he remembered. Now he remembered _everything_.

He rose to his feet in a challenging stance, only to be forced onto his rear with a quick wave of her hand. "Again, you are not _listening_. Do not allow your ignorance to grant you needless pain like before."

The zabrak's head drooped slightly, remembering what she had been able to do to him in such a short time. Never before had he been…_taken apart_ so easily. There wasn't even much of a fight…just him, writhing on the floor in pain as her lightning scorched his body.

If she was offering him an out, he felt it smart for him to take it.

Xur sighed, resigning to his seat on the rug he had fallen to. "Fine. I guess it's obvious you're more powerful than I am."

"It is not defeat to admit such a thing, but power is not the correct perspective," the First Sister paced around him. "There are very few beings in the galaxy that are more powerful than you, and _I_ am not one of them," she admitted, proceeding to sit cross-legged across from him. "It is a matter of _knowledge_ of the Force, and I've had years longer to perfect it than you."

Xur scoffed. "I'm not in the mood for your gloating. If you're going to torture me, let's just get on with it."

"Your grasp of this situation is truly appalling if you believe I've brought you here just to inflict pain upon you," she replied, her back straight and posture near perfect. "The practice of torture is an act for those that are insecure with themselves and feel the need to lessen the dignities of those greater than them. You should not fear beings of such pathetic lack of vision, nor should you bring that assumption upon _me_."

He shrugged. "Then why am I here?"

"To continue what we started," she answered. "To finish your training."

"_Training?_" he questioned, stifling another witty comment, as to avoid a lash of lightning. "I'm not an inquisitor."

"And neither am I," she revealed. "I never was. My only purpose was to find _you_…and now that I have, the Inquisitorious no longer is of use to me."

"The Empire will come for you. They don't take kindly to deserters."

The First Sister let out a deep chuckle. "If they could not find me there, they certainly won't find me _here_."

Hands down, this was perhaps the strangest woman he had ever met, but despite his reservations, he could not detect a single lie. However, for all _he_ knew, she could project to him whatever she liked, and he wouldn't know any better. To trust her would be risky at best, but besides attempting escape, he didn't find himself with much choice.

Her confidence in defying the Empire…was admittedly _enticing_, not to mention her backbone to nonchalantly wave off _Darth Vader_ himself.

"Who are you?"

She sighed, disappointedly. "Still, you demand the simple answer, but you do not search for it," her response was somewhat frustrated, which _at least_ informed Xur that she _cared_. "Have all your previous masters held your hand this way?"

Xur gulped, admittedly conceding a point well made. "My Jedi Master was…_direct_, to say the least."

"Ah, a true assessment. Mace Windu was never one for his discretion, nor his awareness of his surroundings," she noted.

The zabrak narrowed his eyes, but before he asked another question that she would surely not answer, he tried putting the pieces together. "So, I'm guessing you've been… 'around the block', even before the Purge."

She tipped her head. "At last, some _insight_. Yes, that is correct, Xur Eon. But enough about my past, let us end this circular interrogation."

Of course, right when he thought he was getting somewhere.

"Whatever," Xur conceded. "Your house, your rules, I guess."

"Indeed. Close your eyes."

He paused. "What? Why?" Her frustration sparked, and he shut his eyes quickly. "Alright, alright, fine."

"Be silent," she commanded, her voice all he could hear. "Now tell me: in the Throne Room, why would you react in such a violent way after experiencing an event from your past?"

Xur grumbled. "My past is full of shitty things I'd rather not remember."

She snorted. "I assume that your crude adjective refers to _traumatic_."

He was hesitant to answer. His life before becoming a Jedi, while only a short few years, was as unstable as it got, and there were images that had branded themselves in his brain, despite it being two decades since. Those images…were comparable to the crimson blade through Trilla's chest…from a traumatic standpoint, as his mysterious new mentor had put it.

"Wipe the fear from your mind," she whispered, although projected in his mind. He naturally resisted, and she psychically knocked him back on his ass. "_Listen_ to me, Eon. If you cannot face your past, then you shall never fully actualize your future."

Xur sighed…and against his better judgment, surrendered to her.

"Good. Now, follow me."

* * *

**ISD**_** Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Command Bridge**

Trilla couldn't stop the occasional shudder that ravaged her stance beside Admiral Vorchenko, and she was beginning to care even less about the outlook the longer she stood there…waiting for the inevitable. She envied the Admiral's ease of stance, or just ease that she was able to project, but she knew no one on this bridge had experienced what _she_ had at the hands of their guest.

"Pull up your chin," Vorchenko whispered, her voice coming in through Trilla's audio receptors. The Admiral's idea of preparedness was to reacquire her inquisitor helmet and brandish a new cape, as to present the Dark Lord with an inquisitor that _hadn't_ changed. Of course, what she failed to realize was visual presentation hardly mattered to a monster such as this.

"I do not need your…advice," Trilla silently cursed to herself for being unable to finish her _sentence_ without a stutter.

"This is _my_ ship, Inquisitor," she insisted. "Your intense fear is unnecessary, and if Lord Vader was simply coming here to kill you, he would've met us in the hangar bay. The Dark Lord fancies his time."

It was a…_fair_ point…that didn't afford her much comfort. She had still failed to capture Kestis, Lord Vader's _own_ command, according to the Grand Inquisitor, and his unusual presence never boded well for _anyone_.

"Just follow my lead," the Admiral directed, and Trilla simply nodded…until the cold shiver wafted through the Force like the winds of winter.

Across the command strip, the turbolift door opened, and out stepped Darth Vader, his constant expressed breathing instilling all deck officers to turn in acknowledgment. Even the death troopers stationed at the right and left ends of the bridge stood at attention as his boots _clanged_ against the durasteel flooring.

It was like reliving _everything_ all over again. Trilla could hardly contain herself, but she did her best to maintain at least a believable posture.

"Admiral Vorchenko," he greeted, his deep, dark voice clawing at the deepest reaches of Trilla's soul.

Vorchenko tipped her head. "Lord Vader."

When his soulless and mechanical gaze came to Trilla, her head fell out of instinct, and her eyes were only graced with his boots.

"Second Sister," his voice projected with a growl, and he forced herself to look up. "You have a great many things to _explain_."

Trilla stammered. "M-my apologies, my lord. I promise you that-," she gasped as she was suspended in the air, her throat closing on its own.

"The Padawan Cal Kestis is still at large, thanks to your _ineptitude_ and obvious _imbalance_," he said as she clawed at her throat. "Clearly you require _reconditioning_."

Trilla's already bulging eyes widened in fear behind her helmet.

"Lord Vader," Vorchenko intervened. "Unless you wish to explain yourself to _Moff Tarkin_, I would release her."

Vader merely turned his head, still holding Trilla in his grasp.

"She is aboard my ship and has proved herself a valuable asset. Should you dispose of her, an audience may be brought forward-."

"There will be no need," Vader cut her off, releasing Trilla, and she fell to her knees, sucking in wholesome breaths of air. "Nor is there a need for your…" he stepped towards the Admiral in a menacing stance, towering above her. "…dangerous _tone_."

Vorchenko met his gaze. There was a reservation to the Sith Lord that she had never experienced within him…as if he _himself_ was restrained. "If you are not here to dispense punishment, then may I ask why you have come aboard?"

Trilla could feel the anger and annoyance bursting from Vader as she remained on her knees, her fear planting her there, and she wondered how much longer the Admiral had to live.

"The Emperor has commanded…" Vader's gaze fell to Trilla. "…_her_ presence on Coruscant. I am to escort you both. Moff Tarkin wishes to speak to _you_, Admiral, in person."

The inquisitor gasped, finally able to catch her breath. "His majesty has requested…_me_, my lord?" she asked.

"He would not reveal why," Vader answered, his thumbs sliding behind his belt. "Nor do _I_ understand. As far as I can see, your usefulness has come to an end."

She trembled.

Vorchenko's gaze hadn't left Vader. "Very well. We shall depart at your command, my lord."

"We leave _immediately_," he replied, turning with a flap of his cape. "We shall not keep my master waiting."

Of _all_ days…namely the one that should've been Trilla's last still living…the Emperor wished to meet with _her_.

What could he possibly want with a failed inquisitor?

* * *

**Ziost, 14 BBY**

**Unknown**

_He is strong…we cannot allow him to be wasted with the likes of the Jedi Order._

_ All you've ever cared about is power! He doesn't need to be a weapon! The Jedi can teach him how to control the darkness within him._

_ Control the darkness? You are a fool, Osiris…blind and stupid! The Jedi either run or ignore darkness, they do not face it._

_ Shhh! He's coming._

_ Mama…Dad? What's going on?_

_ Nothing, my beautiful child. Your father and I are just having a discussion._

_ Go back to bed, son._

_ Back to bed…_

"No," Xur opened his eyes, rising to his feet. "We're not doing this."

The First Sister made no movement to force him to continue, which surprised him. Instead, she maintained her cross-legged posture, her mask no revealing if her own eyes were closed.

"If you do not face your past, you will never realize your true potential," she warned, her head eventually facing him. "This moment we keep revisiting…it is traumatic for you, as you say, because you were young. It changed your life forever and set you on the path you walk even to this day…a warpath of combat, excitement…lust; all things that help us forget what we do not wish to remember."

Xur grumbled. Every word this woman spoke cut deeper into barriers he thought had been filled, and it only frustrated him the more he felt outmatched by her.

"You can see all this just by reading me?" he asked.

"In a way…" she trailed off. "Your defenses are formidable, but it is merely your raw power in the Force. Those who are only maintained by their talents have slippery foundations, and adversaries with extensive experience find little trouble exposing that weakness."

She rose to her feet, approaching him. "You also wear your emotions on your sleeve, as it were. Difficult to read for someone less trained, but not for someone with-,"

"Experience," Xur finished for her. "It really does outrank everything, doesn't it?"

The First Sister tipped her head. "A true metaphor, for what I am trying to teach you. That will be enough for today. We shall start again tomorrow."

She turned away, but he reached out. "Wait. Where are we?"

He almost bit his tongue for asking, but she paused, giving him half her head. "The planet Ziost. It is a dead world of the Sith, and its cloak hides us from our enemies. This here is my home…and now, it is yours."

"I can't stay here," Xur implored. "I've got my own mission I can't walk away from."

"You mean involving this?" she presented a spherical artifact in her hand, pulled from behind her caped veil. "The Zeffo Astrium?"

"You have it?" Xur reached out, but she pulled it away.

"_You_ must earn such things," she denied. "Consider it a reason for you to _listen_."

He grit his teeth. "Look, that artifact is the key to stopping the Empire…_your_ enemies as you put it…and Cal-."

"Has abandoned you," she answered before he could continue. "You have wasted enough time with that one, and you should not concern yourself with fallen padawans and broken masters."

He clenched his fist. "How dare you. You have no idea what either of them have gone through."

"What I _do_ know is this: Cere Junda was master to one of the only known Jedi who could use the rare and _powerful_ force healing technique, and she _surrendered_ her to the Empire. After the Purge, Trilla Suduri is now the last of her breed…and she now walks a _dangerous_ path that could put the fate of the galaxy itself in her hands."

Xur took a step back, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

The First Sister was not quick to answer, and he detected _anxiety_ within her for the first time. "While you were incapacitated, there was a disturbance in the Force…a _wound_. In a moment of psychotic urge and rabid anger, Suduri conjured what the Jedi refer to as a _Death Field_. It is a power not wielded for nearly four millennia, not since a Sith Lord born with her same power began consuming whole _planets_."

He almost scoffed. "You mean _Darth Nihilus?_ Trilla could _never_ become _that_."

"That perception shows how little you understand the power she now wields," she pointed out. "Unchecked, her deadly new power will grow until she _herself_ is consumed by it, and in turn she will become a slave to a hunger never sated."

She stepped forward, her slight height advantage slanting her head downwards. "If she cannot be turned from this path…then she must be _eliminated_."

Xur's eyes widened. Never did he ever believe that Trilla's gift could result in such a perversion. What she could do had been the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed as a Jedi…the power to heal lethal wounds with the brush of her hand…but the Empire…but _Vader_ had corrupted her…so much to the point that now her gift had become a weapon.

He wanted to _kill_ them…he wanted to kill them _all_. Trilla would _never_ reach this dark fate, and this he promised.

"I won't let that happen," he vowed.

The First Sister only stared. "Then you must _listen_ to me. In order to defeat the Sith, you must understand them…and through me, I can teach you to become one. Only then will you have the power to defeat your enemies…and save Suduri before she unleashes her wrath upon the galaxy."

There was almost no hesitation within him now. He could _feel_ it. His destiny lied with this woman, and only she had the knowledge he needed to begin his fight against the Empire.

Xur Eon knelt before her. "Teach me."

* * *

**Short chapter, I know, but it was necessary. I needed it to get this story back on track, and you can thank the extremely informative review left for the last chapter. I also may be making subtle changes to certain chapters here and there. Anything major, and I will be sure to let you know.**

**I have also decided to make this story officially a standalone, disconnected from my series. This is because I think this just stands so far above any of my previous works that it should not be restrained by them. As a result, one major change will be to the prologue, as I will cut out the scenes from the future. If you are a later reader, and have no idea what I'm talking about, then no worries for you.**

**Thanks for the incredible support thus far. This story has hit 3,000 views in a month and a half, and it has inspired me to press on with a fervor even I didn't know I had.**

**As it has shown, your feedback is important and carefully considered. If you feel something is out of place, or doesn't make any sense, please feel free to let me know. Of course, please don't just tell me "this thing sucks" and not why, otherwise there's nothing I can do to accommodate you.**

**Thanks for reading, and I will be back soon with more for you all!**


	14. The Emperor's Wrath

**CHAPTER 11**

The Emperor's Wrath

"The greater the power, the more dangerous the abuse."

**Coruscant, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Palace**

Trilla was surrounded by ghosts.

The Jedi Temple, now the formal residence of Emperor Sheev Palpatine, echoed the voices of countless dead Jedi, despite the Imperial drapes and restructuring. Everywhere she stepped, just behind the pace of the Sith Lord Darth Vader, was a step closer to what she once was…a knight of the Jedi Order. While she may have never formally achieved that rank, to come here again only fueled her internal imbalance.

_That_ enticed her hatred once again…how every place she walked reminded her of a life that had been stolen from her…the continuing reminder that there was still love in her heart.

All love had ever granted her was pain…_unending_ suffering. She let herself care about her men for _one moment_, and in an instant, they had all been taken away. An unforeseen menace had grown within her, reminding her that love was _death_, and if she ever let it back into her heart, that menace would return to remind her again.

But that menace was not the mechanical and soulless monster that had plagued her dreams, and now lead her to his master.

That menace was _herself_.

Part of her just wanted to die. There was nothing left in the galaxy for her anymore, and it was almost continued torture to persist down the path before her.

If the Emperor simply wished to kill her now, she would welcome it…but she knew better than that. The Admiral had been right…if she was going to die, it would've happened quickly, and in the hangar bay…her neck snapped with the closing of a fist.

Vader stopped at the central turbolift, which was guarded by two red-armored Imperial sentries at each side. Armed with force pikes, their free hands were raised in a halting command, and Trilla complied.

"The Emperor is expecting us," Vader said, his voice a low rumble.

Neither of them replied to his remark, and their helmeted heads slowly turned to her, in which she experienced a chill down her spine. From what she could detect, they simply observed her, until one signaled the other to activate the turbolift. As the door opened, they remained mute, and Vader took it upon himself to enter, Trilla being smart to follow in his wake.

Their ascent was agonizingly slow. The Dark Lord's persistent breathing deeply unsettled her in the enclosed space, and it was a constant struggle not to shiver in fear. However, what kept her going was the obvious but yet stunning realization that her tormenter _answered_ to someone else. It was…an oddly comforting thought that such a deity in her mind had a master…and it was the only thing keeping her alive.

As the turbolift slowed, the low _whirr_ of machinery signified its stop, and the doors slowly opened. Two identical guards from before were there to meet them, taking only one glance at Vader and stepping aside, forging a path forward. Trilla couldn't recognize this place, but she knew where it was located. Atop the central spire was the Emperor's Throne Room, looking over the Coruscant skyline, decorated with many dark colors and a perilous pit beneath the elevated walkway to the throne.

Trilla's HUD displayed it all, but in the Force, she felt the presence of the Emperor. An elevated platform connected by a majestic stairway supported the Emperor's throne…and his hooded figure only revealed the bottom portion of his face.

Halfway down the path, Vader knelt and bowed his head, Trilla following with equal haste. Never did she expect to meet the _Emperor_…and her nerves only added to her growing fear.

"Very good, Lord Vader," he sneered from atop his throne, his voice just as, if not _more_ unsettling than the thing beside her. "You did well on Mygeeto. Congratulations are in order."

"Thank you, my master," Vader replied, and his submissive tone sounded _alien_ to her. "The insurgents have scattered."

Palpatine smiled, emitting a small chuckle. "Another enemy falls," he began, and rose to his feet. "Another _asset_ rises."

Vader's head perked up, and Trilla didn't dare raise her eyes.

"Return to your ship, and await my orders," the Emperor commanded as he descended the stairs, black cane in hand. "That will be all. Guards, leave us."

Trilla was confused, and that was when her guard slipped enough for her to look up. Palpatine's crimson guards turned down pathways that exited the throne room, and Vader himself rose to his full height, his optics panning to her as he turned away.

"As you wish," he bitterly complied.

She jerked her head back down, her eyes focusing on the floor as sweat poured down her face. Her anxiety only worsened the more alone she felt, and by now she could only see the Emperor's boots beneath his robe.

"Rise, my child," he commanded with an upwards motion of his free hand.

It took a moment for his command to register within her, but she slowly rose to her full height, bowing her head as to not appear taller than her superior.

Palpatine chuckled again. "The sinister _Second Sister_. I have heard much of your exploits in service of my Empire, Inquisitor. Your efforts in the inquisition of the Jedi Order have not gone unnoticed."

Trilla swallowed, her throat feeling like sandpaper. "Thank you…your majesty. It is a…honor to meet you in person."

He did not answer right away, and she could feel his superior senses prying at her like leeches on skin. "I sense great doubt within you…your feelings are…_troubled_. I hope this is not a result of your mission to Zakuul…"

She said nothing. There wasn't much choice in the matter anyhow…as she found herself paralyzed in place.

"Let go of your fear, my dear," the Emperor eased, but still as if it was an order. "My apprentice is gone. He cannot torment you _here_."

Her head raised, finding the gaze of his piercing yellow eyes, covered by a sickly glow. The Emperor's face was the literal definition of a _plague_…and yet…he was trying to _comfort_ her?

Trilla took the chance to reassert herself. "My Emperor…I have failed in capturing the Jedi Cal Kestis. I am prepared to receive whatever-."

"Remove your helmet," he cut her off, and her head fell again, silencing herself. "I wish to see your face."

Trilla took a moment before shakily reaching for the sides of her helmet, unlocking it, and pulling it from her head. Out of respect, she did not drop it; only held it before her with two hands. Her hair was slick from the sweat that ravaged her face, but the cooling effect of new airflow calmed her somewhat.

The Emperor smiled. "Trilla Suduri…former padawan to one Jedi Master Cere Junda, am I correct?"

Trilla tipped her head in acknowledgement, stifling the spark of anger that rose from hearing her name. "Yes, your majesty."

He chuckled again, and this time it unsettled her far more than _anything_ she had ever experienced. "Your mission to Zakuul was not a failure…_far_ from it."

Her eyes panned down as he gestured, leading her to walk beside him.

"Come, my child. Let us take a walk."

* * *

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

_Cere was alone, her eyes flashing open as she lay on the durasteel floor. She flinched, her surroundings dark and unrecognizable, unable to remember how she got where she was. Hesitantly, with her eyes scanning with blurred vision, she rose to her feet, every sound an endless echo. _

_ "Hello?" she called out, and her voice projected through the area. Lights flashed, revealing a grated hallway…reminiscent of a traumatic experience she couldn't place anymore._

_ Nowhere else to go, she walked down the path._

_ Distant sounds reached her ears; torture devices activating, followed by anguished screams. Cere stopped, trying to cover her ears, but her arms no longer obeyed her commands, and soon her legs followed, forcing her to progress through the hall._

_ Her foot kicked into something, and to her horror, a teenaged boy's body was sprawled at her feet, his eyes devoid of all life…but with no mortal injuries. She was carried further, still recovering from the last vision, until she was graced with an array of bodies with the same look in their eyes: civilians, soldiers, stormtroopers…all killed by this unseen power._

_ A door slammed behind her, cutting all lights._

_ Cere trembled in the darkness…until a vision blared through her senses. Before here was the Interrogation Chamber, the same where she had been broken, the same where she had given the Empire Trilla._

_ "Cere…" gasped a faint, weak voice, and she looked down to see Cal Kestis crawling to her feet, his eyes gray. "Why did you…why did you betray…her?"_

_ "Cal!" Cere gasped, reaching to him, only to watch him be engulfed in energy of sickly purple…and drop to his face before her._

_ "This…is all…on you," he wheezed, until finally dying. There was nothing she could've done to save him…whatever had taken his life…it was beyond her defense._

_ "Cere…at last."_

_ She was ripped off her feet and dragged forward, her arms bound behind by a strong energy in the Force. When her vision focused…she gasped._

_ Trilla's hand was outstretched, suspending her in the air with a devious grin. "You left me to die…now watch as countless die for your transgression."_

_ "Trilla…" she wheezed, unable to move in her former padawan's strong grip. "I'm so-," Trilla's hand squeezed around her neck as she was pulled in, and Cere could only watch as she suspended her free one above her head._

_ "It's far too late for that now," Trilla growled._

_ That purple energy poured from her fingers, and Cere screamed, squirming desperately as Trilla pulled her life force from her soul._

_ "Everything…all you ever cared about will die!" Trilla proclaimed, and Cere saw it all. Entire cities falling silent, inhabitants devoid of life force, fleeing Jedi suffering the same fate…and a planet…a planet she had seen before…barren and dead…devoid of the Force itself._

_ "Trilla…!"_

"No!" Cere exclaimed, her eyes funneling in the cockpit of the _Mantis_, greeted to the blue void of hyperspace through the blast shield. After a few calming breaths, she covered her face with her hands.

She had her worries since Zakuul…Trilla sapping the life from both she and Cal without control; her rage and despair exploding from within her. From what Cal had described, and what Cere had felt with her connection to the Force slowly returning to her, Trilla had pursued him with a vicious fervor that could not have been her sane desire. Why she had moved her attention to Cal so violently was beyond her knowledge, especially after what Xur had described as the Second Brother.

Even considering what Cere had subsequently put her former padawan through, something inside Trilla _wasn't_ right. It was a haunting menace that would surely consume her in time…transforming her into a monster beyond redemption.

When Cere had chosen Trilla as her padawan, all those years ago, Master Yoda had warned her: _the power to heal, save many it can…but if abused, destroy many…it will_. The first time she had witnessed her close a mortal wound, it evoked a level of pride within her that she had never been able to recreate. For the first time as a Jedi, she felt _special_ because of what Trilla could do. Spending many years with Cordova, scouring ancient tombs and collecting relics, while good experience, didn't separate her from the rest of the Jedi. Training a girl who could achieve miracles…it was what any master lived to see.

In that moment, she wondered why a more prominent Jedi Master did not train her. Perhaps, since her kind were not as desperately thinned out, they saw no issue in granting Cere her request…and had taken her for granted.

Then again, if she _had_ been padawan to a council member, she'd probably be dead…killed by her own men.

Cere didn't want to think it…but it was there…subtly wishing that Trilla _had_ died during the Purge. While the grief would've surely ravaged her, it couldn't possibly be as bad as the responsibility she felt now. She felt so powerless…filled with so much _rage_ at not only the Empire, but at _herself_.

She shook the thought away. The holocron had to come first. If she couldn't save Trilla, she would certainly save those children on that list.

There was a scent of food that wafted in the cockpit, and Cere turned her head to spot Greez walking in.

"Hey. You okay?" he asked. "Thought I heard you over here."

Cere shook her head, turning in her chair. "It's nothing. Just a bad dream," she downplayed, and then let her eyes wander to the kitchen.

"Oh. I'm just putting together a little something…you know, a last supper before something on Dathomir eats me alive," Greez answered, his sarcastic tone as radiant as ever. "Still can't believe we have to go to that place."

Cere smirked. "Well, if it were up to me, we wouldn't be, but we lost the Astrium on Zakuul, so now we have little choice."

"Yeah…the astro-thingy," Greez acknowledged, crossing two of his four arms. "The kid hasn't left his room since we went into hyperspace. I mean, I'd like to think he and BD-1 are fixing up that droid they found, but I don't think so."

"We just need to give him space. He's taking what went on between him and Eon…pretty hard."

"Yeah, I feel like I'm missing something from that."

Cere's eyes panned away in reverie. "Cal said he knew him, and at such a young age it was easy for him to become enamored with a Jedi always at the front of the fight. He looked up to him…and I think Xur let him down."

Greez scoffed. "I know what that's like. I tried talking to him, but because of our previous conversation I don't think he wants much to do with me."

"We need to let him walk his own path," she suggested. "I have a feeling there will be things he sees on Dathomir that may redefine him forever…and reveal bitter truths he may not want to know."

The lateron nodded but turned his head to the smell of burning food. "Shit…hold that thought, Cere."

As Greez ran off to rescue his meal, Cere returned her gaze to the console before her…wondering if she had truly spoken of Cal…or _herself_.

* * *

**Coruscant, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Palace**

"Tell me," Palpatine inquired. "What is it that drives you?"

Trilla kept pace beside his slow walk, long relinquished of her helmet. While her anxiety was far from gone from her, the extended period had allowed her to adopt a bit of comfort with their interactions. Much to the disagreement of the Force itself, the Emperor was far more pleasant than she initially believed, his tone understanding…his statements eased. Instead of a reserved walk, she found herself opening up to his questions.

"The thrill of the hunt, your majesty," she answered. "I enjoy the…challenges of hunting Jedi, and the reward in capturing them."

Palpatine chuckled lightly. "Spoken like a true _inquisitor_. How…disappointing."

Trilla's throat dried, and no words found their way through.

"I will ask you again. What is it that _drives_ you?"

She felt herself at a precipice…a test within a conversation, and with Vader's resolve, she felt her life hanging on her passage. To succeed…she felt she needed to be truthful, all the way to the personal foundation.

"My hatred for my former master drives me," she corrected. "In every Jedi I hunt, I _feel_ her, and when I end their lives, I see her face. I wish nothing more than to end her miserable life and make her suffer for eternity."

Palpatine turned his head, and he grinned her way. "Do not relinquish that hatred. It gives you _focus_, and it can only make you _stronger_."

Trilla took that to heart, feeling her anger rise as the image of Cere reappeared in her mind, and it translated to the twitching of her lip as she walked.

"You suffer from imbalance, Trilla Suduri," he noted as they continued through the halls of the palace. "But your _power_…" he closed his eyes, his smile widening. "You have unlocked something within you _truly_ special."

She instinctually reached for her palm, but caught herself, attempting to assert her control over involuntary reactions.

"Do not fear what you are capable of," he insisted. "It has been many _thousands_ of years since one could drain the life force of living beings _tenfold_. The Jedi wasted these gifted individuals on _compassion_, restricting them to consulars and healers…_ignoring_ their greatest strength."

Palpatine stopped and faced her, she being quick to do the same. "I will not allow Lord Vader to _waste_ such an…_asset_."

Trilla was quick to bow her head. "Thank you…my Emperor."

"But you must first prove yourself to me," he interrupted, and then gestured, opening the door at the end of the hall. Trilla slowly turned…and her eyes widened.

Through the door, crimson guards held Effa with electrified bonds, two of them with their force pikes pointed her direction…poised for the killing blow. Her face had been cut in multiple spots, blood ruining her neigh-perfect outlook. Despite her situation, she looked up to Trilla and smiled.

"Trilla! You came to rescue me!" she joyously exclaimed, and then her personality flipped. "These fine men and I have been having fun! I can't wait to stretch them until they snap! Won't you help me?"

She was frozen in place, unmoving at the sight, and Palpatine merely kept his eyes on her, seemingly waiting for her to act.

"What is this?" Trilla asked.

He did not smile nor laugh. "I have ordered my men to _kill_ her. You cannot reach her in time, and there is only one method that may save her life."

Trilla grit her teeth and turned towards the men. She tried to take a step, but one guard activated his arm control, and Effa was seized by electrocution, her eyes bulging as she screamed, only ending when Trilla ended her approach.

"_Kill them all!_" Palpatine ordered. "Or she _dies!_"

She grit her teeth and reached out, searching for the hum of their life force, but found nothing. It was _gagged_, just as before, and it felt like listening for sound with deaf ears. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't conjure the field she had before.

"I…I can't!" she cried.

Palpatine turned to his guards. "Kill her."

Faster than Trilla could perceive, both force pikes were thrusted through Effa's chest, and blood pooled beneath her as she collapsed…and died.

The world went silent for Trilla…her senses deafened, and her vision tinting red in a slowed fashion. Her hatred spiked, and suddenly she could hear it _all_; the life forces of each of the crimson guards screaming to her…goading her to rip them from their miserable owners.

Trilla _obliged_ them.

Purple energy erupted from her hand, tendrils that latched onto the hearts of the armored men, engulfing them in sheer agony, their very souls torn from their crude shells. Screams bellowed from each of them, falling to their knees as their bodies spasmed and died, splashing into the poll of Effa's blood that had manifested.

Trilla relinquished the attack, but she was not finished, purposely keeping _one_ alive for the final act. He could not rise, but she helped him up, ripping him off the floor with the flick of her hand as she slowly walked his direction. Still with enough energy to struggle, he squirmed in her grip.

Palpatine laughed. "_Good!_ Use your _hatred!_ Kill him…kill him as you see fit!"

She growled, pushing her hands together in a crushing motion, and the man screamed in absolute agony as his bones crushed themselves. Trilla twisted her left hand, and his left arm and leg were ripped from his torso, splatting horrific gore across the rugged carpet. Her anger escalated, and she could feel the pool of power that had grown within her…rising up into her chest…and seeping into her arms.

Lightning poured from her fingers as she unleashed it, cooking him alive until it finally graced him with the death he certainly had prayed for. Once her torrent had run its course, the lightning stopped, and his dead and mutilated body dropped to the floor.

Trilla breathed, her hatred, pain and anger running its course through her mind…only leaving despair. She fell to her knees and uncontrollably wept, soaking her gloves in her tears, ignoring the blood that had tarnished her face. It was not advised to do so in front of the Emperor, but she couldn't stop herself, no matter how hard she tried.

All she heard was Palpatine's chuckle behind her. "Very good, Trilla. I see my faith was not misplaced. You will prove to be a _great_ investment."

In that moment, her tears ceased, and her despair gave way to resolve.

"I am…" she sniffled, repositioning herself to kneel before her sire. "I pledge myself…to you, my Emperor."

Palpatine smiled down upon her, his eyes closing. "Your _power_…it is a blistering cauldron…just waiting to be _tipped_ in the right direction."

She looked up; her eyeshadow smeared down her cheeks. "I will do…as you command."

He sneered. "Henceforth, you will relinquish the title of Second Sister, and your ties to the Inquisitorious. You will no longer answer to their summons or their commands. You shall answer directly to your Emperor, and _only_ your Emperor."

Trilla bowed her head once more. "I shall carry out your will as you see fit."

Palpatine gestured for her to rise. "Rise, Trilla Suduri," he commanded, and she met his height.

"Emperor's Wrath."

* * *

**Ziost, 14 BBY**

**Sister's Estate**

Xur winced and tried to ease the sudden pain with his hand to his head. While the pain was quick to disappear, the Force continued, and he suddenly felt lightheaded and ill.

"You must ignore all distractions," the First Sister insisted, until she too reached for her head, grunting slightly.

"Did you feel that?" Xur asked.

"Yes," she confirmed. "A disturbance…something…_sinister_."

Just as quickly as it had disappeared, Xur felt it again, this time much more vividly. That dark leviathan he had experienced on Zakuul had returned, this time consuming whole cities…an entire planet. Wherever it went, it left nothing behind.

"It's…it's her," Xur recognized, a sadness welling up within him. "Something terrible has happened."

"You must not let despair control you," she urged, sitting cross-legged across from him. "It is a crippling weakness than can be easily used in your enemy's favor."

The zabrak rubbed his eyes. He couldn't take it anymore. Never before had he _sat around_ while someone important to him suffered, and he _certainly_ never backed down when there was a war on. It was against his nature, and he was done letting himself give in to fear.

"I have to help her," he rose to his feet.

"If you go now, you will only _worsen_ her. She is in a fragile state, and if you present yourself before you are ready, she _will_ kill you, and all of this will be for nothing."

"I can't leave her!" he resisted, his emotions exploding at last. "This is on me; I should've pulled her out when I had the chance."

The First Sister sprung to her superior height. "Do not allow your personal feelings to jeopardize your destiny!" she growled. "There is nothing you can do!"

"You said it yourself, I can beat the Sith!"

"You can't beat _him!_" she shouted him down, reducing him to silence. "You can't…"

Xur's eyes narrowed. This was the first time she had a crack in her demeanor, which had progressively weakened the longer he had stayed here. She had devolved from a diabolical teacher to an old woman growing attached to him, and it only perplexed him further.

Fed up, he swiped his hand through the air. "Enough masks. Tell me who you really are."

The First Sister paused, her mask optics pointing beyond him, but they eventually focused on his face, seemingly returning from a lost memory. "You must face your past first. If you do so, I will tell you who I am."

He seethed. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

She simply turned away, reclaiming her spot on the rug. "Because if you succeed, you will already know."

_More cryptic blurrg-shit. Fucking hell._

The First Sister seemed to notice his annoyance, but instead of dragging him to the floor with the wave of her hand, she held her hand out, presenting the seat across from her. "Please."

Xur grumbled as his curiosity got the better of him, positioning himself cross-legged on the rug. Deep down, he truly did not wish to go back to that moment she so desperately wanted him to visit, but he knew it had only held him back…and he wanted to solve the constant mystery his instructor was hinting at.

If it was the only way to save Trilla…then so be it.

He took a deep breath. "I'm ready."

She nodded, and this time her voice came out soothing. "When you see what you need to see, _don't_ look away."

Xur focused, his mind reaching back…back to that moment.

_He is strong. We cannot allow…_

* * *

**Coruscant, 36 BBY**

**Undercity Level 13-13**

"…him to be wasted with the likes of the Jedi Order," Valeria insisted, her arms crossed and posture straight, while her Jedi husband, Osiris Eon, allowed his voice to rise with each word.

"All you've ever cared about is power! He doesn't need to be a weapon! The Jedi can teach him how to control the darkness within him," he argued, and she only scoffed in dismissal, turning away.

"Control the darkness?" she mocked. "You are a fool, Osiris…blind and _stupid!_ The Jedi either run from or _ignore_ darkness, they do not face it."

Small footsteps could be heard coming from a side room, and the male tan-skinned zabrak made a shushing gesture. "_Shhh_. He's coming."

Xur Eon, only two years old, peeked from behind the door at his parents, who had at last ceased their yelling. Valeria noticed him, and with a tested glance towards her husband, she knelt before her son, trying to smile for him. She was nearly his spitting image, aside from the tattoos that he had never earned at birth.

"Mama…Dad?" he asked, shivering in fear as a result of the anger he could sense from both his parents, threatening to spill over. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, my beautiful child," his mother eased, caressing his face with her gloved hand. "Your father and I are just having a discussion."

"Go back to bed, son," Osiris said, his arms crossed.

Xur couldn't…his fear was too great, and the young boy buried himself in his mother's embrace, and she comforted him as best she could. "I'm scared, Mama."

"Don't be scared," she soothed. "You'll be strong one day," she promised, and then looked up to her husband. "Stronger than _everyone_."

"Valeria…" he trailed off, and then fear was apparent. "We can't _hide_ forever."

"There's no time," she retorted. "I'll take him."

"Absolutely _not!_" Osiris yelled. "He's going to the Jedi Order. It's the safest place for him!"

Xur's eyes widened in his mother's arms as anger reached a fever pitch, and a crimson blade was ignited, pointed at his father. However, just when the emotions exploded, Xur felt himself dizzy…his senses blurred.

Another blade sparked, and Xur was dropped to the floor, red and green blades clashing in the middle. The child rolled over; his eyes wide with terror as the blinding lights terrified him…rage projected through the Force like a terrifying demon he could only perceive as a monster.

"Stay back, son! I have to do this!" his father shouted.

The horrific light displays continued, until green spun and plunged itself into his mother, expunging the red…and the life force within her.

Xur let out a high-pitched scream. "_Mamaaaaa!_"

Osiris left the body of Valeria behind, a smoldering hole through her abdomen, her eyes dulled and lifeless, and reached out to Xur, who tried to crawl away.

"Come with me! I have to get you someplace safe!" his father urged, and grabbed ahold of his leg, while Xur tried to punch his father's arm free. Eventually, Osiris waved his hand before his son…and his vision fell to black.

* * *

"…who left you here, little one?"

Xur awoke, his head heavy and senses foggy, blinded by the light of the Coruscant sun. All he saw was white, until a shadow relieved his eyes of the glare…and a figure came into focus. He was a dark-skinned male human, dressed in tan Jedi Robes, perhaps no older than his father.

The young zabrak tried to back away, but the human merely raised his hands. "Easy…I'm a friend," he said. "My name is Mace…I'm a Jedi."

Xur sniffled, his eyes welling up with tears as he could no longer sense either of his parents. "A J-Jedi?"

"Yes," he nodded, smiling. "What's your name?"

"Xur," the young boy answered, ending his fleeing movement.

Mace nodded. "Xur…do you know how you got here?"

He shook his head, drooping. There was an energy to the human before him, similar to that of both his parents…something he could _feel_.

Mace held out his hand. "Come now, let's find you a home."

* * *

**Ziost, 14 BBY**

**Sister's Estate**

Xur wiped the tear from his face as his senses returned to the present moment, shaking off the traumatic pain of watching his mother murdered before his eyes…someone he had loved more than anything in the universe. Most Jedi never saw death until their teenaged years…he'd seen it when he was merely a toddler, and the energy that erupted in the Force was more than his mind could handle.

And yet, seeing it again with a new perspective helped him. He had never forgiven his father, and perhaps never truly would, but he was knowledgeable enough now to accept that he didn't have all the answers…and that there was something going on beyond his own view.

Knowing that…he accepted it…and his sorrow dissipated.

The First Sister grasped his hand gently, much to his surprise, but with his new vision…he realized something _else_.

She pulled back her hood and used both hands to unclip her mask with a _hiss_. When she revealed her face, the surprise was gone.

"My beautiful child," Valeria Eon cried, her eyes as blue as his…beautiful black hair tied and clipped behind her head. "Now you see."

Xur's eyes couldn't stay dry, his chin shuddering with emotion. "M…_Mom?_"

Valeria nodded, her eyes watered. "I wanted to tell you…you have no idea how long-," she was cut off by his wholesome embrace. "I'm so sorry I had to deceive you."

He sobbed into her hair. "_How?_"

"It's a…long story," she answered. "I made you see what you needed to see…it broke my heart."

Xur's arms crushed her in his grip, but she didn't stop him. She allowed his tears to flow, his emotions to run their course, and once he was finished, he pulled away. His eyes were sullied red, but she could feel his happiness, despite all of it.

After a few breaths, he smiled. "Hell of a way to treat me," he joked. "Lightning and all."

"I…I had to," she replied. "As to why, you will see in time…but know that everything I have done, and have yet to do is all for your benefit. Of all things in this galaxy, _you_ are the pinnacle of my machinations."

He nodded, but eventually his expression changed as the euphoria of her reveal faded. "What about Dad?"

Valeria paused…and shook her head. "Xur…I…deceived him as well."

The zabrak's eyes widened.

"He thought he had killed me, and after he left you at the Temple…he could no longer live with himself…so he wandered off…and took his own life," she revealed, her head drooping. "But I'm sure you've assumed as much by now."

His eyes narrowed, and his joy began to give way. "You…_let_ him die?! Why?" he erupted, rage pouring over. "Why fool us in the first place?!"

"Xur…"

"Why?! We had _everything!_ Why did you _take it all away?!_"

"To hide you from _him!_" she shut him down, her voice returning to the harsh master that had found him on Zakuul. "Darth Sidious."

His rage capped, but he backed away. "The Emperor?"

Valeria nodded. "I used to be his personal assassin…before the Naboo Blockade…before you were born. When I left him to be with your father, he tried desperately to find me, but I had learned how to hide myself, and I used his own strategies against him," she explained. "But we didn't last long. That day…when you saw me die…there were multiple assassins coming our way. While your father took you to the Jedi, I killed them all, and I've been hiding out across the galaxy, until finally settling here."

"So…so it _is_ possible…" Xur trailed off, his eyes shifting in thought.

"What is?"

"To turn away from the dark," he explained. "Like you."

Valeria's eyes shut, and she shook her head. "The Dark Side never leaves you. Embrace it once, and it embraces you forever, no matter how hard you try to push it away. I tried for decades…but I've accepted it now as a part of me…as you have."

Xur's eyes panned down, and she could feel where his thoughts were going.

"As a mother, I am…happy that you love someone," she admitted. "But as your teacher, I must warn you…she will be the death of you, if you let her."

"I know," Xur grumbled.

"Do you? You could've killed her any number of ways while you were the Second Brother. Instead you allowed her to live, and as we've experienced, she has begun her descent into madness and destruction."

"_I know._"

Valeria's eyes narrowed. "I just hope that you understand what's at stake…because I promise you, the time will come where you will have to make a choice…and I want you to make the _right_ one."

Xur met her gaze, his assurance projected in his response. "I will, I promise."

She smiled. "Good…now, let us continue."

"More training?" Xur scoffed. "Mom…I just found out you're _alive_. This moment…let's _feel_ it…"

"…for as long as it will last," she filled in for him, reminding her of a lesson she had learned long ago, one she would never forget. "A meal then."

Xur nodded. "A meal."

* * *

**Coruscant, 14 BBY**

**Undisclosed Medical Facility**

"Rise."

Effa desperately gasped, her breath refilling her stagnant lungs as life returned to her body. Instinctually reaching for her head, she discovered that her wrists were bound at her sides, and immediately her mind went into a whirl. Terror infected her mind first, preparing for the harsh embrace she had felt for so long…but it gave way to sweet, perverse desire, ready to drink in her own pain once again.

"Oh, how I've missed you," she chuckled, her vision still blurred, but relaxing herself. "Those glowing tendrils…my friends!"

"Silence yourself, Inquisitor," the bone chilling voice came next. Effa's head turned towards a dark blob in her vision, and after squinting her eyes, it came into focus.

"My savior…" she smiled blissfully as her eyes fell upon Darth Vader, his arms crossed over his chest. From her medical bed, he was the only other being in the room, and she was surprised to find herself merely strapped to it, and not another torture device.

Effa chuckled. "Did I die well?"

"Indeed."

Surreptitiously, her eyes darted around, before leaning towards him, her voice to a whisper. "Did Trilla cry…did she scream? Did she kill them all?"

Vader pointed sternly. "Do not forget your purpose…and where your _true_ loyalties lie. You will continue as planned. No alterations."

Effa let her head fall back onto her pillow, and she smiled. "I…as always…am eternally yours…

"_Anakin_."

* * *

**A lot happened there…I know.**

**Before you ask me why Trilla would suddenly grab the attention of the Emperor, just think about the stakes…how many people have her power. Then ask yourself…would he really let something like that go to waste, especially if he could use it to his advantage?**

**Cal's role has been reduced, as I'm sure you've noticed, but he's not gone, I promise. Merrin's name isn't in the description for fun…**

**Other characters will be coming back soon, but that is the end of Act II, so next is the second interlude, which is shaping up to be the longest chapter (yes, even longer than The Revenant), so it will be some time before that drops. It's going to be insane…and a collab with one of my fellow writers.**

**See you then. If you've enjoyed (or not), let me know your thoughts so far through two acts! Also, feel free to check out the poll on my profile!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	15. INTERLUDE II

**Written in collaboration with and approved by DFM23. Strap yourselves in…**

**INTERLUDE II**

**STAR WARS  
****THE CLONE WARS**

"Those we surround ourselves with influence us more than we give credit."

_Endgame plot! As the Republic secures key victories during Operation Countdown, intel reports that the Separatists are mounting a desperate invasion of a key Republic stronghold: the fortress world Tranbir IX. Sensing the end of the war close at hand, the Jedi prepare to assemble the largest defense fleet the war has yet seen, spearheaded by the best at their disposal…_

* * *

**Coruscant, 19 BBY**

**Just Outside Dark Star Lounge**

"Anakin, where are we going?"

It was the third time Xur had asked that question as his old friend continued to pilot the speeder through the Coruscant skyways, a distinctive smirk on his face. "This way."

Xur's head fell back into the headrest as he smiled. "You smug son of a bitch…where the hell are we going?"

"I told you, this way," Anakin repeated, keeping his eyes ahead as they raced through traffic, faster than necessary. "I figured we grab something different. Those government rations are starting to taste like duraplast."

Xur reeled in disgust. "_Really?_ They're not _that_ bad."

"Speak for yourself."

Anakin rolled the speeder into a steep dive, throwing Xur's stomach into his lungs as he grabbed ahold of the handrails. "You ass. Don't do that!"

His Jedi counterpart chucked as he evened it out, descending upon the diner only a few blocks from the Jedi Temple. Xur's eyes glistened at the sight. "Oh, come on! Skywalker, this is too much. I haven't been here in…" he couldn't even remember or recall.

"Since the war started, right?" Anakin answered for him, swooping into a parking slot.

It took a moment to regain the reverie, but Xur nodded. "Yeah…not since the war started."

The zabrak lost himself in the moment, his eyes glossing over as the realization hit him. There were _a lot_ of things he hadn't done since the war started…people he hadn't seen, debts he hadn't paid. He figured it came with being a Jedi…but it didn't feel right.

"Hey," Anakin smacked his back as he hopped out of the parked speeder. "Wipe that look off your face and let's go."

Quickly, Xur shook his head and followed Anakin around the side of the diner and to the front door, the two of them approaching side by side. Since Anakin had been taking the lead role, Xur waited for him to enter first…but the brown-haired Jedi just stopped, crossing his arms.

"Go ahead," he flicked his head.

The zabrak narrowed his eyes, feeling confused. "I don't know _what_ you did," he began, pulling at the handle. "But if this is-."

"SURPRISE!" multiple people shouted, making him jump, his hand flinching to his hilt in a flash. Once the initial shock wore off, he was wrapped in a hug…his face buried in blonde hair.

"_Uhh_…is that you, Effa?" he asked, his voice muffled as he tried to hug her back.

"Mm-hm! It's me!" she said, letting him go, almost jumping up and down with joy. "It's been so long! It's great to see you!"

She looked radiant, much more than he remembered, not to mention how much she had grown from a young teenager to an adult woman. Honestly, she looked incredible, something he wasn't expecting.

"I-it's great to see you too!" Xur replied, still shaking off the sudden interaction. However, his eyes peered over her shoulder, and an even more pleasant view was behind her, a smile on her face as she waited for Effa to complete her greet. As soon as their eyes met, the pull was magnetic…impossible to resist.

Once Effa was finished, they approached each other. "Trilla, you're-."

He was slammed into from the side by another, and Trilla embarrassingly looked away as the zabrak was pulled to the side.

"Horned-headed bastard!" Kaidan Alko grinned, his arms wrapped around his old friend. "How the _hell_ are you still alive?"

Xur laughed, gripping his shoulder tightly. "I ask myself that every day. What are you doing here?"

Kaidan chuckled. "Well, everyone seemed to be on Coruscant at the same time, so Jedi Knight Azulia put this all together," he explained, presenting her in excessive fashion…something that obviously hadn't changed. "We kept you out of it because…," he turned to Anakin, looking unsure. "Why did we keep him out of it?"

Anakin was only watching it play out with his arms crossed, and only gave Kaidan a shrug. The zabrak almost cringed…this had so obviously been staged…but for what?

Everyone turned to Trilla, and she spread her arms out wide. "Happy Birthday!"

It took a moment for it to sink in, but eventually he reached back into his memory, his eyes pointed skyward. "Is it…oh _wow_…holy shit, it is!"

They all laughed, and Trilla finally took her chance to embrace him, in which he returned properly. "So glad to see you," she admitted.

Happily, he let the moment sink in, feeling comfort with her in his arms again, something he didn't realize he had missed so dearly.

"_Awwww_," Kaidan mocked, in which he received a hard punch from Trilla, who was still being held by Xur.

"Enough, you _cunt_," she giggled, and he brushed off the attack.

"Alright, enough of this, let's sit down!" Kaidan insisted.

* * *

Trilla couldn't express how happy she was to see everyone again, but she hadn't said much through the beginning of their time together. It was somewhat of a tight fit in the booth, but it was spaced out enough so that everyone was comfortable, even if she subtly didn't mind that she and Xur's legs rubbed up against each other now and then. Her introverted personality had kept her from directly speaking to him often, a frustrating impasse that had driven her insane. Sure, they had met on Ossus recently, but they spent most of that time tense with each other instead of having just a normal, eased conversation.

If only she could steal him away for one minute…

"…_bang!_" Kaidan smacked his hand on the table, shocking her attention back to the conversation playing out before her. "Mortar fire hits us, and I'm like: 'Damn, which one of y'all pissed 'em off?'"

There were laughs from Xur and Effa while Anakin rolled his eyes, and Trilla only smiled to feel included.

"Mortar fire is nothing," Anakin waved off. "You ever faced a defoliator cannon? _That's_ when you know you've pissed them off."

Xur scoffed. "_Not even._ Gunships and commando droids are the _clear_ signs. You know those damn things are expensive, and against Jedi? You might as well order new ones right after you send them off," he then nudged Trilla with his elbow. "You should've seen her on Ossus. Separatist billing must've been _sky high_."

Trilla shrugged as all their eyes fell on her. "Collapse a couple of tunnels, and the droids don't know where else to go. It was nothing, really."

The zabrak shook his head and had his arm around her in a flash, eliciting a blush she quickly tried to hide. "No, she's just being modest. I mean…I _might've_ done all the work but - ow!" he grunted as she elbowed him playfully.

"You ass," she shook her head. "You were out of commission the entire time, if I remember correctly."

When Xur shrugged to a point well made, the table laughed in unison.

"Funny how you left that part out of your story," Anakin recounted. "I remember it being along the lines of 'Republic War Hero Saves Jedi Younglings', not 'Republic War Hero gets KO'd while his Counterpart Does All the Work'."

"Harmless self-promotion," he raised his hands defensively, pulling his arm from her, to her dismay. "You do it all the time, Skywalker."

"There's self-promotion, and then there's _lying_," Effa interjected with a smile, seated between Anakin and Kaidan. "Jedi don't lie."

Xur scoffed and shook his head, in a state of non-denial. "I'm a shitty Jedi, you guys know this."

Everyone laughed at that.

In a moment of instinct, Trilla bumped her shoulder into his bashfully and affectionately. "I think you're a _great_ Jedi."

Xur didn't take it the way she wanted him too, only smiling to her for a moment before looking away. "Thanks, Trilla."

A silence fell over the table, and she felt the need to bundle herself behind her knees to hide from their prying eyes, but much to her surprise…no one reacted. It was unlike them, _specifically_ Kaidan, to leave _any_ flirty moment be, and part of her figured it was simply the grown maturity of the group; all of them experiencing these feelings one way or another.

The conversation rounds continued, and she once again fell into a listening role, not involving herself too much. Mostly, she found herself touching her face, not used to the amount of makeup she had applied for this event. It was Effa's idea, mostly, since in the field she hardly had the time to keep up her outlook, but part of her enjoyed it. Despite being a Jedi, it was a bit of normalcy that helped ease her mind when she was off-duty, and anything like that was _gold_ during a war…even the simple things.

"You alright?" Xur asked while he also was out of the conversation, catching her while she rubbed underneath her right eye.

Trilla cleared her throat, pulling her hand away. "What?"

Xur snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back in the booth. "Something under your eye?"

"Oh," she waved her hand dismissively. "It's nothing…" she trailed off, and then found herself at a precipice. If she continued on this path, she'd allow him to become lost with the others again…and then he was only one holo-call away from being taken from her again.

_Time to take the leap._

"Actually," she grabbed his attention, just before he turned away. "I was wondering if we could…talk."

Xur narrowed his eyes. "We are."

"I meant more like…" she hinted towards the door.

The zabrak caught her meaning and shrugged. "Alright, lead the way, _Commander_."

As they scooted out of the booth, Trilla struggling to manage her nerves, it was _then_ that Kaidan spoke up. "Hey!" he said. "Where you guys going?"

Trilla paused, but Xur pushed her along gently. "_Relax_," he eased. "We'll be back in a minute."

She led him out of the diner and into the Coruscant outdoors, the bustling skylanes subtly in the background. The streets were mostly clear of pedestrians, various races pacing around for their daily duties, just before the work rush began again. It was a relief for her, since she didn't want too many prying eyes on their conversation…and the best she could find in the short time was around the back of the lounge.

"Are we coming to a contraband pickup?" Xur joked with their surroundings, and Trilla could only smile once she faced him.

"No. I cut ties with my supplier," she carried on.

He snickered, crossing his arms. "Too bad. His prices were good…so what's up?"

Trilla only now realized that she hadn't thought of anything to say. "Um…well," she stammered, rubbing the center of her palm with her thumb…silently cursing herself for not being prepared.

_Come on Suduri…think!_

"I wanted to ask you something," she went out on a limb, and then straight to her heart. "Do you think it's right for Jedi to…_ignore_ their feelings?"

The zabrak cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"Well I was just…" she stopped herself, and eventually shook her head, flushing with embarrassment.

_This is stupid. Nice move Trilla._

"It depends," he answered anyway. "You should avoid those that can compromise your judgment, like anger, hate…" there was a pause in his answer, and Trilla spotted his eyes shifting in thought. "No…honestly, I don't think it's right. Why do you ask?"

_Ok…he's said it…now take it!_

"Do you remember…what you said to me…before you left?" she asked, adjusting her slouch to stand tall, just shorter than he by a few inches.

Xur's face fell. "Trilla…"

It was a moment of madness that possessed her to step forward and press her lips against his, drawing his eyes wide and his hands to her shoulders, pushing her away as gently as possible. "_Woah_, woah hey!" he protested.

Her face blemished red, and she backed off, shrouded in embarrassment. "I'm…I'm sorry," she apologized. In that moment, she almost turned and ran off, just to spare her the continued pain of witnessing his shocked expression at her sudden and foolhardy move, but the zabrak reached out and took her hand before she could go.

"Look, Trilla…" he sighed, his expression understanding. "You're still…important…to me…but things are really crazy right now. I'm sorry."

It was the worst disaster she could've imagined, absolutely unbecoming of her Jedi training, and _certainly_ something her master would scold her for _days_ about. Cere wasn't wound up tight like other Jedi, but she'd never let something as low as this slide. Not only was it _against the Jedi Code_, which could land her in the Hall of Judgment, it was a heinous failure to control something easily stifled away.

But that was just it. She _couldn't_ get him off her mind…not since Ossus…not since she witnessed his exposed intestines leaking from his stomach as she ripped a piece of his own fighter from his body. It was a stark reminder that everyone she knew could be gone in an instant, and she had become fed up with letting these one-time moments pass.

For all she knew, he could be dead by sunset.

She gripped his hand with purpose, and he returned the gesture…but if Trilla was good at detecting _anything_, it was hidden emotions that another kept under wraps…and Xur did _not_ feel the same way about her…at least on the outside. He was harder to read than most; keeping his thoughts inside labyrinths she could become lost in for _hours_ and end up right back at the beginning…similar to how Anakin's mind was wired…but she didn't need the _Force_ to know what was going on.

Thinking of Anakin reminded her…and it all made sense.

Trilla grumbled in disgust and pulled her hand away. "Forget it," she almost spat, crossing her arms and turning away. "I know what's going on."

Xur took offense to her accusatory tone, and it only frustrated her further. "What are you talking about?"

She scoffed, shaking her head. "_Really?_ Anakin's _padawan?_"

Now she'd wormed under his skin, remnants of the last time. "We are _not_ doing this _again_," he pointed.

"I expected better from you," she mocked, not gracing him with her gaze.

"_Ugh!_" he grumbled. "Why are you being such a…a…"

"A what?" she challenged, _now _facing him, her anger getting the best of her. "Say it! Go on, call me a _bitch!_ Tell me how I'm _jealous_ that some other togruta _cunt_ has won your heart."

"_Hey_," Xur warned, his tone low.

"Oh? _Defensive,_ are you?" Trilla noticed. "You don't even need to admit it. You wear it all over your face."

"Trilla!" he shouted, but with his hands up in an easing gesture. "You've got it all wrong."

She snorted in amusement. "Do I now?"

Xur was about to continue, until the ringing of his commlink saved them another argument. He winced. "Master Windu. Look, Trilla, I'm sorry I hurt y-."

"_Don't_…just…" she stopped him with her hand raised, unable to look his way, hearing the chimes persist. "You'd better answer that."

The zabrak only gave her a worried glance before stepping away to take the call, and Trilla took that chance to leave him. She was _fuming_, and she couldn't control it, but once she turned the corner, _that's _when she realized what she had done. Something in her had just…_snapped_, and it was as if another, much pettier and viler version of herself had emerged.

Deep down, she _was_ jealous…jealous of a girl she had never even met, but she didn't care. She _hated _her, and she'd be dammed if she let her run rampage over her life.

_What goes around, comes around._

Then, her_ own_ commlink flashed.

When she saw it was Cere, she did her best to shake off her bubbling emotions, but another part of her didn't mind it.

"Yes, Master?" she greeted, Cere Junda's full frame projected before her.

"_Trilla, I need you to meet me in the War Room at the Jedi Temple. There's something big going on, and we're being asked to be a part of it,_" she explained, her expression somewhat grave.

"Understood. I'll meet you there," Trilla acknowledged, and cut the transmission against her better judgment.

_Get ahold of yourself, dammit._

Now she was getting out of control. Damn that togruta.

"Trilla, I'm sorry," Xur apologized from behind, catching up to her. She seethed in annoyance, but it didn't deter him. "Please…I can't have us part like this."

She shook her head. "I need to get to the War Room."

Xur paused. "Wait…you too?"

"_Yes_, me too," she rolled her eyes. "I know it's always a surprise to you but yes…I'm worth something."

"Trilla, _come on!_" he protested, his hand falling to her shoulder. "That's not what I-."

"Just leave me be!" she whirled, smacking it away, and then stomped off to find her parked speeder, leaving the zabrak alone to watch her go.

* * *

**Coruscant, 19 BBY**

**Jedi Temple War Room**

The War Room was a technological marvel, and easily the most state-of-the-art section in the entire Jedi Temple. Outfitted with multiple holoprojectors that allowed high command to seemingly alter reality with their fingertips, it was the perfect place to run through the plan, on paper _and_ in practice.

But it wasn't made to house _this_ many Jedi.

Xur had to squeeze his way around the holotable, occupied by Jedi Masters Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Yoda, Ki-Adi Mundi, and Cere Junda. Aside from them squeezed in Anakin Skywalker, who he had managed to find a spot beside, as always, Kaidan Alko, Effa Azulia, and finally, just across from him, Trilla Suduri.

She hadn't laid an eye on him since their argument, orbiting around her master since he had entered the Temple, maintaining an arms-crossed stance. Despite what she may believe, he could sense how frustrated and angry she was, and part of him couldn't blame her, but some of the things she had said were certainly unwarranted. It was fine to be upset…it was _another_ to start insulting a friend of his with needlessly derogatory language.

If he hadn't felt so bad for her, he would've reacted much more harshly. Silently he wished Ahsoka wouldn't show…but that was an impractical expectation at best. Trilla could certainly be counted on to _not_ let things go.

"Hey," the guest of honor squeezed in between he and Anakin, eliciting groans of annoyance from them both. "What'd I miss?" Ahsoka asked, leaning in on the holotable.

Anakin shrugged. "A lot of standing around," he complained, and turned to Obi-Wan. "Master, can we get this thing moving?"

Xur watched Obi-Wan roll his eyes, and then mumbled. "Master Windu, shall we indulge Anakin with his request?"

"We're still waiting on another update," Mace answered, shaking his head. "The attack is on-going."

Cere leaned forward, looking past Obi-Wan. "And where is this attack, exactly?"

"Don't tell me Geonosis fell again," Xur almost groaned. "I still got bug guts on my armor I can't scrape off."

He earned small laughs from his younger peers, and shaken heads from the older, aside from Trilla, of course, whose pettiness could be bisected with only a lightsaber. Ahsoka laughed the hardest, which only fueled it. Usually by now he would've been scolded by a current Council Member for his "lust for battle", a tedious speech he had heard from _everyone_, and was frankly ready to shove it back down the throat of the next Jedi who gave it to him, but with Master Windu present, everyone tended to keep their mouths shut, and this time was no different.

"To our luck, no," Mace confirmed, activating the holotable, which in turn displayed a map of the galaxy and zoomed in just south of Mandalorian space. That area of the galaxy was perhaps the oldest battleground of the war itself, being the target of the Separatists' first campaigns three years ago. It had consistently been a deadlock, neither side gaining any ground no matter who seemed to have the advantage. "But I wouldn't consider this luck either."

Xur grumbled. _Tranbir fucking Nine._

The ninth celestial body of the Tranbir system was displayed to them all, home to the bloodiest stalemate of the entire war. Separatist forces had been landing since the war had _begun_, and it had become a trench-warfare meat and metal grinder for each side. The Republic had tried detonating multiple nuclear devices to push them back, as well as heavy bombardment from orbit, but both sides were too dug in. Whatever inhabitants had lived on the planet before were long gone now.

When he snuck a look Trilla's way, he could trace her gaze straight back to Ahsoka, who had her own eyes focused on the image. Xur could only grumble to himself in annoyance, but there was nothing he could do about it, not _now_ anyway.

"We have just received word that the Separatists have consolidated much of their fleets, and are now pointing them all towards Tranbir IX," Mace explained, showing a graphic of the converging forces. "Evidence suggests that they intend to break through our defenses, and unfortunately, since we've had to commit so many resources to the planet itself, if it falls, it will be awhile until we halt their momentum again."

Mace stepped back, allowing Obi-Wan to take the lead role. "As I'm sure you are aware, both forces are entrenched here," he pointed, and the planet zoomed in to the heaviest battlefield. There were trenches dug out for miles, and it was truthfully unlike any battlefield Xur had ever seen. "Between the two front lines is a swath; a 'No Man's Land' if you will. It's been outfitted with traps that have even taken a few Jedi, but we believe that if the Separatists find themselves at favorable odds with us, they will charge, and that'll be where we all come in."

The baton was passed back to Mace, and he directed his attention towards he and Anakin. "Skywalker, you will be leading the front line. We've outfitted the 501st for the task, and they will join you once you arrive. That line is in desperate need of fresh troops and strong leadership."

Anakin tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Understood."

"Azulia and Alko will join you," Mace continued, and Ahsoka revealed confusion in her expression, in which Obi-Wan picked up immediately.

"Xur, Ahsoka and Padawan Suduri will act as the right side of a double inversion, while I lead my forces from the left," he drew on the map. "If the timing is right, we should be able to meet in the middle and decimate their front line in one maneuver."

Ahsoka nudged him at the sound of the plan, and he only granted her a half smile…sparking concern within her.

"Master Kenobi…forgive me, but…I believe I may be more useful elsewhere," Trilla suggested, her tone desperately trying _not_ to sound bitter. "I'm sure there are wounded men that I could-."

"Tranbir IX is a bloodbath, Trilla," Xur interjected. "I'm going to need your help to pull this off."

Her gaze didn't change much, but there was notable surprise that he sensed within her, which inspired confidence within him to continue.

"I need people I can trust…_Commanders_ I can trust."

_That_ hit home, and he could see it in her expression, even if she didn't want to admit it.

"Alright," she accepted, and he spotted Cere gripping her padawan's shoulder in reassurance.

"Master Junda. You and I will be running coordination," Mace continued, drawing her attention. "We're going to be monitoring transmissions at all times."

She merely nodded her head in acknowledgment, and that was when everyone became restless to get moving, conversation sparking between different parties. Xur himself was anxious, but he couldn't shake a feeling…like this mission wasn't going to be like any other.

"One last thing," Mace interjected, calling everyone to silence as he tapped a flashing button on the console before him. "The last data dump just came in…and it reads that the Separatists are being led by Admiral Trench…and the Wraith."

Slight gasps shuddered around the room, but Xur didn't follow in their reaction. "Who's that?" he asked with a shrug.

This time, Anakin was the one who answered. "Slippery little bastard. He's a Separatist super soldier. Mean customer. I can't believe he's still alive."

Ahsoka was being eerily and uncharacteristically silent beside him.

"Doesn't sound like much of a problem to me," Xur continued. If he had 20 credits for every Separatist soldier who put "super" in front of their name, he could afford himself a new starship, the works too.

"Do not underestimate him," his former master warned with a pointed finger. "He's earned his reputation for a reason. We've lost a lot of men to him, not to mention a number of battles."

"I don't care _who_ he is. If he gets in my way, I'll take care of him," being careful not to say _kill_, since he'd have to endure another lecture.

"_Yeah_, you say that now," Kaidan warned. "Just wait till you see this guy. Carries enough firepower to wipe out a platoon."

"In any case, the plan remains the same," Mace confirmed.

Yoda stamped his cane into the ground. "Good luck, I give you all. The end of the war, near it is. Trust in each other, you must, and succeed, you will."

"Thank you, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan bowed, followed by many others.

"On that, let us begin. Dismissed," Mace concluded.

Xur was the last one out, as usual, taking the time to run through the holomap. No one ever seemed to mind him taking the extra time, as long as he wasn't late boarding the _Demeter_. He needed a second opinion anyway.

Transferring the data to his holodisk, he exited up the stairs and into the Jedi Temple halls.

Trilla was waiting there for him, her arms crossed. She looked slightly embarrassed and somewhat uncomfortable, but she was there, nonetheless.

"Hey," she greeted.

Xur wasn't sure how to react. "Hey."

Her expression loosened, and it was obvious she was feeling apologetic. "I'm sorry about what I said. I…lost it…I guess."

The zabrak smiled and approached her, giving her a reassuring pat on the back as he led her to walk beside him. "Don't worry about it."

Her hand slid up her other arm, resting on her elbow as she hunched over and kept pace. "Ever since Ossus…I've been…thinking about how we argued," she admitted. "When I saw you laid out on that cot…unconscious…I felt so _guilty_. You didn't deserve anything I had said-."

"You saved my _life_, Trilla," he reminded her, his hand gliding to grip her far shoulder. "And trust me, I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes."

She smiled. "Ha! Well isn't that the truth."

He playfully pulled her close. "Alright, come on, we got a – hey!" he protested as a teenaged boy ran through his leg.

"Oh! Sorry Master Eon!" the red-haired Padawan apologized but continued to run off. "Master Tapal is going to kill me!"

Xur and Trilla watched him go, and she gave him a funny look. "Do you know him?"

The zabrak shrugged. "I think his name was Cal…or…something," he recounted, staring for a moment as the kid disappeared around a corner. "Oh yeah, Bracca. Good kid. Anyway, as I was saying…"

"How did you meet?" Trilla continued to enquire.

"Ah…clean up duty," he waved off. "Not important."

She chuckled. "He's a quick one. Wouldn't want to have to chase after him."

"Are you gonna listen to what I'm trying to tell you, or keep focusing on that random kid?"

Trilla snorted and bowed in mockery. "How may I serve, General Eon?"

He scoffed as he realized she was toying with him. "Fucking hell, forget it."

She laughed as they proceeded to the exit…off to battle _together_.

At last.

* * *

_**Demeter**_**, 19 BBY**

**Padawan's Quarters**

Her quarters were certainly cozy, and it was a nice change of pace for Trilla, who had spent much of her apprenticeship camping out or sleeping on a cramped shuttle. For once, she had her own space to meditate and center herself, something she desperately needed right about now. Even if she and Xur _had_ made up for now, she still didn't feel at ease.

After setting aside her sporadic possessions and relinquishing herself of her heavy gear, she did just that. Finding quiet in the center of her quarters, she calmed herself, letting go of her frustrations…her fears, insecurities, jealousies…

The chiming of her door brought an end to all that.

She sighed. "Who is it?"

"Sorry to bother you, can I come in?" the muffled female voice came through, and her eyes bulged in recognition. She wanted so badly to scream _no_, and tell the togruta to go fuck herself and never come back…but who would be the real issue in that case?

_Fine…let's see what you have to say._

"Come in," she granted, falling out of her meditative pose and settling for something more comfortable.

When the door opened, she was graced with Ahsoka in all her glory, a lithe teenager who looked more like a front-line fighter than a Jedi Knight. Her twin blades hung at her hips, displayed for her counterpart to revel in as she strolled forward, sitting on her presumptuous ass across from her as the door closed.

At least that was how Trilla _perceived _her behavior.

"You're Trilla, right?" she asked, holding her hand out. "I'm Ahsoka."

Trilla stared at her orange-skinned hand like it was a parasite, but eventually swallowed her pride and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Ahsoka," she said, holding back vomit from surfacing.

"Xur's told me a lot about you," the togruta smiled, which only made Trilla even angrier. "I'm so glad to finally meet you!"

"Yes, I'm sure," Trilla huffed, her emerald eyes pacing away. "Is there something you wanted?"

Ahsoka's smile somewhat faded, which instilled a level of satisfaction Trilla couldn't describe. "Just…wanted to talk…that's all, you know, since we're going to be working together. I thought it would probably be a good idea to get to know you."

_Well, isn't that interesting._

Before Trilla threw another "leave me alone" comment her way, she reanalyzed Ahsoka's last statement. All this time she had been afraid to understand her prospective rival for Xur's affection, but if she was going to defeat this opponent before her, she _had_ to understand her. The togruta was obviously overly jubilant and quick to trust, two traits Trilla could never stomach well, and her initial assumptions painted her as somewhat prissy and presumptuous: expressing her status as Anakin's Padawan to the whole galaxy. However, the ladder was becoming less and less fitting, unless Ahsoka's _real_ reason for being here was to rub it in her face that the zabrak cared more about her than he did for Trilla. If that was the case, she'd feel less guilty about telling her to fuck off.

_Alright, horned-headed cunt. Let's play a game._

"Very well," Trilla shrugged, feigning disinterest. "What do you want to know?"

Ahsoka's bright smile returned. "What saber form do you use most?"

"Form II," Trilla answered. "But I've been working on Form V the most. You?"

"Form IV…"

She sat through the initial small talk, merely biding her time to ask the big question, and didn't much care for Ahsoka's responses. It was obvious that she was at least mature for her age, maintaining a military-like discipline consistently through their conversation, but bits of her easy-going and determined personality showed themselves from time to time. Why she appealed to Xur was making more and more sense, furthering her growing distaste for the togruta, but Trilla masterfully kept it hidden. She had a purpose now, using her skills of analytics to her advantage, checking off behavioral cues that revealed more than Ahsoka was probably aware of…not that she was attempting to hide anything anyway.

When Ahsoka finished another long ramble, Trilla struck. "How did you meet Xur?"

She smiled, and Trilla sensed fond memories. "On Christophsis two years ago. He was good friends with Anakin, so it was only a matter of time before we met. Xur was…nice to me, even if Anakin wasn't at first. I learned a lot from him, as I think he did from me. We're good friends…one of the reasons I stayed with the Order."

_Good friends…right…a "good friend" would keep you from leaving the Jedi Order._

"How'd you meet him?" Ahsoka asked in turn.

Trilla knew it was coming, and yet it still caught her off guard, but she recovered and stuck to her plot. "Seven years ago…we played a sabacc game in Anakin's dormitory. That's how I met him."

"Ah, of course," Ahsoka recognized. "He's _really_ good. I've tried learning from him, but it's too much analytics for my taste."

_And that's why you'll never see me coming._

"Don't worry," Trilla smirked, more at that realization. "I'm not any good either."

That was a lie. She'd cleaned out whole tables of clone troopers before, and every time she managed to convince Cere to play, it never ended well for her master.

The togruta laughed. "He's a bad teacher, as it turns out."

Trilla laughed back, and then punched her ticket. "You like him, don't you?"

Ahsoka scoffed. "Yeah, of course I like him."

"No," Trilla shook her head. "I meant more…"

Like clockwork, and just as Trilla had predicted, Ahsoka's eyes widened. "What? Oh no, no, no, no, no…not like _that_," she answered, and her confidence revealed she was telling the truth. "He's a great guy and all, but a little too…I don't know…" she became rattled, her security fading, and it brought Trilla more joy than anything to see her smile fade into discomfort. "Just…I don't know…"

_Yes you do._

She thought she was _so_ clever. Little did she know that Trilla certainly noticed her private reaction to the sound of the _Wraith_ as Master Windu revealed it to them all. It was all a hunch; a mere suspicion, and yet it had blossomed right before her eyes, and the unsuspecting togruta had no idea what she had just revealed to her adversary.

Trilla waved it off. "Ah, forget I mentioned anything."

Ahsoka snorted. "Alright…you know, it was nice meeting you, but I'd…" she trailed off and rose to her feet. "…I better get back to my master. He's probably looking for me."

"Wouldn't want to test Anakin," Trilla agreed. "I enjoyed our little chat, Ahsoka."

"Me too," Ahsoka nodded, and then turned towards the door. "See you there."

As the door shut, and Trilla was left alone, she sighed happily and proceeded to lie on the floor of her quarters, letting herself smile in pleasure.

_I just walked into a high stakes game with no cards and bluffed, while the naïve togruta folded her straight staves. Oh…oh how unfortunate it is to be you, Ahsoka Tano._

This was too easy.

* * *

"So this Wraith guy," Xur asked, on the back end of swallowing his "duraplast" government rations as he sat across from Kaidan, engaging in the same act. "What's all the fuss?"

Kaidan spoke while still chewing, eliciting a cringe from the zabrak that his counterpart ignored. "Heesh a fwckin' nightmare."

Xur leaned in. "Sorry, I'm going to need that in Basic this time."

The dark-skinned Jedi shook his head and swallowed, in which Xur only chuckled in mockery. "I said: he's a fucking nightmare."

"_Oof_. Strong words coming from you. Care to explain?"

Kaidan cleared his throat, his expression demanding his attention. "I'll just say this: when I'm done explaining, if I gave you the choice of fucking the Chancellor and fighting the Wraith, you'd have your pants down and your cock up before I could _blink_."

Xur almost spat his current bite out in laughter. "You're shitting me! That bad? Alright, I've got to hear this."

The Jedi cleared his throat once again, in _dramatic_ fashion, and then adopted a "scary storytelling" demeanor of sorts. "So, let me begin by introducing our protagonist: _handsome_, dashing, _powerful_. His strength and grasp of the Force _unparalleled_…"

"_For fuck sake_ just tell me what happened you dip-shit," Xur grumbled in annoyance, but still granted him a smile for his effort.

"Fine, fine," Kaidan accepted. "It was on…fuckin'…I can't remember. Taris or some shit I don't know. Anyway, we were on patrol through city ruins…like I mean _ruins_…like shit's _hella_ fucked up ruins. Like some mofo blasted the shit out of this place."

"Yeah, sounds like Taris. Go on."

"Yeah, whatever. Anyway, my squad and I tore up some clankers, and we _might've_ gotten lost along the way…_maybe_. We were trying to cut a swath through the swamp, but we also got some target practice with some zombie things…rak-fucks or something like that. Got one of our guys…bad way to go."

"You mean rak_ghouls_," Xur deducted.

"Yeah, yeah those things. You see, then we started coming across dead ones, and I mean _dead_…like torn-to-fuckin'-pieces _dead_…but it was systematic, on _purpose_. It was almost as if whoever was killing them was trying to draw other wildlife in, because dumb ass animals don't know to stay away from the diseased fucks.

"Eventually I got a 'hunch' you might say. Someone was trying to lead lethal predators to us, and sure enough, one by one, my guys were getting picked off."

"You're taking this rather easy for an obviously traumatic experience," Xur noticed, intrigued, nonetheless.

"What can I say, I was impressed, but I'm not even at the best part yet," Kaidan continued. "Eventually it was down to just me and a couple of troops, and that's when I saw _him_. You're probably going to think I'm crazy when I tell you this, but I swear this guy was a literal shadow. Red eyes bro…I shit you not. I thought he was a fuckin demon at first, hence the nightmare part."

Then he cleared his throat, _again_. "When he came out, all I heard was a _crack_, and one of my men dropped dead, his neck snapped before I had a chance to _react_. The next guy…_oh god_…I think he pulled his spine from his body."

Xur grimaced.

"He then mumbled a few words in some evil demon language, and then grabbed me by the neck," he explained. "I was pretty sure I was gonna die, but then the last of my men tackled him. Yeah, he might've been killed too, but I took my chance and _fired_ my shoulder particle lance into his chest! Blast knocked the motherfucker into next week, and here I am, able to tell the story."

The zabrak deadpanned. "A _particle lance?_ Seriously? That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

Kaidan grumbled. "Alright fine, a gunship swooped in and saved my ass. I hopped in and got the _fuck_ out of there. I had no plans on sticking around with that guy. _Hell_ no."

Xur scoffed. "Well, your story was _fantastic_. Unfortunately, I feel like I've learned absolutely nothing about the Wraith."

"_Come on_," Kaidan goaded. "Don't tell me you're not getting the hots for the Chancellor."

"_Ugh_," Xur spat in disgust, rising to his feet. "You know what…I'm gonna go find Trilla. Uh…_see ya_ on the battlefield, I guess."

"Dead man walkin'!" Kaidan shouted back as Xur walked off. "Don't say I didn't warn you!"

* * *

"So…Jedi Knight huh?"

Effa smiled, hiding her inability to suppress the blush that always came from compliments via Anakin Skywalker himself. "Mm-hm! Effective one month to the day."

The taller human rubbed the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. "Sorry I couldn't be there. Things have been _crazy_ recently."

It wasn't anything spectacular anyway. Most Padawans were being knighted even earlier with the war going on, and the fact that they were losing Jedi faster than they could knight them. Because of this many of them had very sub-par ceremonies, sometimes on a Republic Venator due to the demands of their assignments.

There simply wasn't enough time to cater to everyone. Effa was lucky enough to have hers on Coruscant, but it wasn't announced, and only a few Council Members, her master, and Trilla had shown. The fact that _anyone_ she knew had been able to see it was fortunate enough for her.

"You didn't miss anything," Effa waved off.

"Ah…I'll make it up to you…somehow," Anakin shrugged, his eyes on the bridge viewport of the _Demeter_ as they traveled through hyperspace, while Effa found her own pair dancing over his image every now and then. "Have you ever been to Tranbir IX?"

Effa shook her head. "Nope. I've heard its really bad down there."

Anakin grimaced, and she felt an overwhelming urge to comfort his troubled feelings, but knew that on the bridge, it would be far less than acceptable. "You've heard right. Xur called it a bloodbath and he meant it. This isn't the first time he and I have tried to break the deadlock."

She sensed strong feelings within him, even if he tried hiding them. Effa always had a natural affinity for detecting emotions, which was why she usually ended up wearing hers on her sleeve. "And this _Wraith_…have you faced him before?"

Anakin didn't answer right away, similarly to how he reacted when she usually asked him about a subject he didn't want to talk about. She, unlike others, was perfectly content with allowing him to keep silent.

"Yes," Anakin answered with a tinge of displeasure, crossing his arms.

Effa knew that was all she was getting out of him, and she dropped it. It had always been…hard…speaking to Anakin, especially with how she felt about him. At first, when she had first met him, he was only months into his Jedi training…always alone, always rejected. She prided herself with being the first to open up to the ostracized Jedi, as many had feared him, especially with what he could do.

But she never feared him, and he had never given her a reason to. It took some commitment, but she eventually said the right words to get him to open up to her, and since then they had always found each other when they needed someone to speak to. Over the years, and as they got older, those times dwindled away…and even now, this was the first time she had spoken to him in over a year. Their conversations had become stagnant…apologetic…_lifeless_.

She felt the importance of this mission, but also the gift she had been given. This moment with Anakin…this mere blink in time…she needed to _savor_ it…for as long as it may last.

"Xur…Commodore Vorchenko," Anakin greeted.

_Aaaand it's over._

She must've lost track of time in her little moment of thought, as they were joined by another pair appearing from behind.

"Reyna…excuse me…_Commodore Vorchenko_ has got some ideas for our attack," Xur explained, directed more at Anakin. Effa found it interesting that Xur would first refer to a Republic Officer by their first name, and his less-than-subtle correction confirmed that it was less than ideal nor proper. Still…Effa admired such a connection, as well as the fact that the black-haired commodore didn't seem to mind at all.

"General Skywalker, I must caution you in regard to the traps the Separatists have laid in the 'No Man's Land'. Not only will you face constant mortar bombardment, but they also consist of electro-mines, sonic cannons and hidden ray shields," she explained, brandishing a datapad to display a holographic image before them. "However, we have been able to map many of these traps, and I have taken the liberty of deducting the probabilities of mortar fire striking each zone," she flicked forward and the image displayed bubbles of orange that Effa deducted as danger zones.

Anakin traced his finger along a pathway away from the bubbles and with a minimal concentration of traps. "So we could stay along this route to have the best chance at crossing," he mused. "But there has to be a reason this is so open."

"Indeed," Vorchenko nodded. "The droids used this pathway to plant many of their traps. They have attempted to cover it, but our intel suggests they have had little success in this endeavor."

"You could wait for Obi-Wan and I to complete the inversion, which could draw a lot of mortar fire away from you," Xur tacked on. "Or you could take it head on, which could draw a charge from the droids to hold you off if you make your team small enough."

"So make your job easier, or mine, basically?" Anakin figured. "What do you think Effa? You want easier or more fun?"

Effa smiled. "Whatever you think is best, _General Skywalker_."

"Heh, in that case," Anakin smirked. "Kaidan's not going to like it, but I think we should try and draw out their attack, that way we'll crush them when we meet in the middle."

"Yeah, just leave it to me to bail you out again," Xur shrugged in a manner-of-fact pose.

"It'd make up for all the times I pulled _your_ ass out of the fire."

"Ma'am," a clone deck officer called from below, directed to the Commodore. "We're about to come out of hyperspace."

"Very good, captain," she nodded, and then took the foremost spot in front of the view port. "Bring us out, fast and quiet."

Anakin smirked beside Effa. "This is where the fun begins."

She could feel it…his excitement was contagious…but she couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Like this was the last time she'd ever be with him.

* * *

**Tranbir IX, 19 BBY**

**Inner Atmosphere**

Trilla maintained a death-grip on the gunship overhead handle as the turbulence picked up. She couldn't tell if it was from their atmospheric entry or the incoming anti-air fire from the Separatist emplacements below, and part of her didn't want to know. Each violent shake rattled her in the enclosed space, surrounded by 502nd Legion clone troopers who looked as if this was another routine flight.

If only she shared their confidence.

Xur and Ahsoka hadn't stopped slinging banter since they boarded, and it was beginning to not only annoy her, but make her feel somewhat ostracized, which was one of the reasons she had asked to be relocated in the first place. Despite the seed of anxiety she had planted within Ahsoka, it was still difficult to watch the two of them get along so easily, especially when it reminded her of what she and Xur _used_ to be.

No time for that now.

Another hit rocked the gunship, and Xur laughed. "Looks like we kicked the nest!"

"Time to burn em out!" Ahsoka added, looking to Trilla. "Hanging in there?"

Oh, how badly she wanted to strangle her for even mentioning it. "I'm fine."

The faster they hit the ground, the better, that way she could just focus on fighting instead of pretending to be her friend.

Her wish seemed to have been granted, as eventually they pulled off enough west of the fight for the flak to break away, and it was mostly a smooth ride and landing once they hit their designated zone.

Trilla's initial impression of Tranbir IX was a mesa world, filled with mostly golden-tan rock formations that gave way to flat landscapes that went on for miles. However, with how devastated the world had been by the Clone War, what she saw as she exited the gunship was a barren world that had lost its glory years ago. Natural rocks had been cracked open or spoiled by crashed gunships on both sides, and much of the ground had been scorched black. Her senses spiked as her eyes laid upon a nigh-perfect circle in the distance that had burned itself into the ground.

"Defoliator cannon," Xur answered from behind, pointing as he came up beside her. "The Separatists dropped a few of those on our encampments. Lost a lot of men to just one of those shells."

It almost sang to her, just as a wound would, but she felt no pull…no _life_.

She couldn't shake it…a _feeling_. Something about this mission wasn't right…something about this _planet_ wasn't right.

"You've got battle jitters, don't you?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

"_Battle jitters?_" she asked, confused at his terminology.

"Yeah…don't worry about it. You might start questioning your own purpose in the galaxy, but it'll go away…eventually."

She scoffed, crossing her arms. "How comforting."

Her response didn't ward him off, and instead he had his hand on her shoulder once again, taking her by surprise. "You're gonna do great," he assured, and then patted her back twice before turning back to his men.

It wasn't battle jitters. There was something out there…something _hunting_.

Hunting for _her_.

"Commander," a voice pulled her from her trance, and her eyes darted to the ARC trooper Mars, the same she had met on Ossus. "The General is pairing me with you. Good to see you again."

"Ah," she recovered, returning her senses to the here and now. "Yes, right. What's the plan?"

Mars chuckled. "Battle jitters, Commander?"

_I don't have fucking battle jitters, you dumb cunt._

"_No_…I just…sense something," she revealed, hiding her annoyance, and reeling from her own needlessly harsh thoughts. "It's not anxiety…I feel like something is hunting me."

Mars didn't answer right away, and she could feel his fear take on a mind of its own for a moment. His fingers danced, fidgeting towards his DC-17 blaster pistols at his holsters, and a heightened battle sense followed.

"You don't think it's…" he trailed off, seemingly hinting at a word that should not be spoken aloud.

Trilla shook her head. "I don't know what it is."

"_Hmmm_," Mars mumbled, but turned his attention back to her. "Anyways…the plan is to advance beside this cliff face and into the trench system. There we'll take a small team forward, and once we've completed proper recon, the General will give the signal for the rest of the company to attack."

Her eyes paced around the assembling men. Most of them were front line infantry units, mixed with an array of special forces, but not many. Behind had landed a few TX-130 tanks, and behind them were three AT-TE walkers with heavy cannons. She assumed those would not be much use in the trenches and would be used mostly for artillery.

"How many will head into the trenches?" she asked.

"He, Commander Tano, you and I, Captain Raven, Lockdown and a few of the other boys."

Trilla remembered Lockdown and Raven. The Captain was perhaps the most informal commanding officer she had ever met, while Lockdown was the polar opposite, sticking to the book but oozing with advanced tech. Familiar faces were refreshing, especially since she already was feeling cross about dealing with Ahsoka.

"Well…let's get to it, shall we?" she accepted.

* * *

**Tranbir IX, 19 BBY**

**Republic Front**

"What's the status Rex?" Anakin shouted over the constant bombardment, and Effa shielded her eyes from the cascading dirt that poured into their trench. The blue and white armored captain of the 501st legion met his General and walked beside him at pace, and it was difficult to hear his response.

"We're locked in tight, General," he said. "The clankers are dug in on the far side of No Man's Land, and their mortar fire is beginning to take a toll on our numbers. We're going to need to move soon."

"Alright," Anakin nodded. "Gather what men you can. We're going to rush the trench."

"_Sir?!_" Rex asked, stunned.

"I've got a plan. There's a route we can take that's out of their mortar range, just in between two cannons that are too spread out to link. There's enough cover that the droids won't be able to hit us."

"General…there's traps as well. This battalion has tried many times to cross, and they only lost more men."

"Rex, you're starting to sound like Obi-Wan!" Anakin teased, turning to Effa and Kaidan, who followed in tow. "We've got three Jedi this time. It'll work out just fine."

Rex huffed, but Effa could sense the trust he had in his General. "If you say so sir. I'll round up some of our best men."

As the captain trudged around the tight space, occupied by the newly arriving 501st in their shining armor as well as the soiled and cracked armor of the ones who had been here for 3 years, Anakin dipped into a forward passage, bringing them one step closer to the main trench.

"Good to see your way with words hasn't changed," Effa noted, her saber hilt close at hand.

"Heh, just you wait," Anakin joked. "Kaidan, you're being awfully quiet back there!"

Her counterpart kept to himself as he did his best to keep up with the two of them. "Ah…I don't like front line battles much. Give me four men, a fortress to break into and some climbing spikes. _That's_ where I'm at home."

"You like the overwhelming odds?" Effa asked.

"_Pfft. _You say that like _I'm_ the underdog in that situation."

Anakin brought them to a halt just before they hit the front trench, which was already sounding like a blood bath.

"Brace!" one clone shouted, and Effa could hear the whistling of a shell dropping through the air.

"Heads down, heads down!" Anakin ordered, and they both followed suit. The shell impacted with a loud enough _boom_ to deafen Effa for a moment while more dirt showered from above, sticking itself in her blonde hair. Once the shower ended, and her hearing returned, Anakin waved for them to continue forward.

"Nice call," Effa thanked, gripping Anakin's shoulder just as he stopped, looking as if he was probing the front wall.

"Don't mention it," he said as he clambered up enough just so his head peeked over the top, pulling his scopes from his belt.

Kaidan's anxiety blistered through the Force. "Hurry it up, will you?"

"_Relax_," Anakin urged, pulling his scopes away and motioning for Effa to join him. "Here, come see."

Effa did her best to find footing adequate enough for her shorter height, but eventually found balance, and took a look through Anakin's scopes.

No Man's Land was a graveyard for _everything_ she could imagine. Insects buzzed over dead bodies that had been left for far too long, and there were so many craters and destroyed vehicles it was impossible to see through to the droid trench. Despite clone casualties, there were countless amounts of droid parts scattered across the area, which explained to her why the Separatists hadn't tried to rush with their superior numbers.

Even with the Admiral's plan, Effa wasn't sure how they were going to cross.

"This looks bad, Anakin," she expressed her feelings, handing his scopes back to him. "So many dead men…it's…tough to see."

"I know, but you can't let it get to you," Anakin acknowledged. "If we pull this off, no one else has to die."

Effa was content with that point of view, and the more suffering she could alleviate from the guardians of the Republic, the better.

"Right behind you, General."

"Sir!" Rex called from below, followed by a group of 501st in a line, as well as some of the others. "I've got our best, as well as a few battered brothers who are itching to make the rush."

"_Yeah!_" many of them raised their blasters in agreement.

"Alright men," Anakin called, dropping down to the floor, Effa following. "Stick together and follow me. We're going to be particular about this so stay in line. Once we cross No Man's Land, we'll have the advantage, but we _will_ be outnumbered. We'll have to hold out until our inversion forces hit the sides. Understood?"

"Hoo-ha, yes sir!" they all answered, anxious to get moving.

"_Anakin. Cody and I are in position,_" Obi-Wan chimed in through his comm. "_Once you start your run, we'll follow_."

"Copy that, Master," he replied. "See you on the other side."

"_As always._"

Effa could feel the excitement, and it only escalated once Anakin hopped back up to his perch, lightsaber ignited. "Commander Azulia…the honor is all yours."

She smiled brightly and obliged, her green blade sparking to life as she clambered up and over the trench wall. "_Attack!_"

* * *

"Guess that's our cue," Xur noted, pulling his scopes from his eyes, able to spot the advancing Republic forces from a slight overlook atop a busted Separatist walker. With a heave, he leapt and landed harsher than necessary, kicking up dirt.

Ahsoka crossed her arms. "One day you're going to snap a femur doing that," she warned with a pointed finger. "All it takes is one wrong landing."

"Alright Dr. No Fun," Xur teased. "I'll take it under advisement," before turning to the rest of their small squad. "Into the trench, let's move."

Their small squad dipped into the end of the dug-out crevice in the ground, and immediately Xur kicked over some busted droid parts without noticing…silently thanking his boots' armored toes. He and Ahsoka maintained their place at point, while Trilla elected to stay in the back with Mars…which wasn't what he had in mind.

She'd been acting…weird…since they hit the surface, swearing she felt something hunting her out there. The zabrak had merely told her it was the "battle jitters" again, which in turn earned him an admonishing look and annoyed scoff. Admittedly, her expressions of warning were always somewhat _unsettling_, and he found himself running out of words to say once she struck him with one. While it wasn't the fierce annoyance expression that Ahsoka gave him from time to time, it certainly made him want to consider his next words carefully.

The whole "battle jitters" was a joke anyway; a term used to rattle newbies in the field. Just, instead of rattling Trilla, he just earned the "if-you-say-that-again-I'm-going-to-kill-you-in-your-sleep" look…so he decided to end that banter for now.

"Hey…Xur," Ahsoka whispered as they continued down the trench. "I'm kind of worried about Trilla."

The zabrak narrowed his eyes in visible confusion but kept his attention forward. "Why?"

"I don't know…I just…don't think she likes me very much."

_Shit. What the fuck did you say to her, Trilla?_

He shrugged. "Oh well, you can't win everybody."

"You're not listening to me though," she continued. "She's always cold to me…and even when we talked, she came off as…_superficial_."

"_Hey_," Xur warned. "Watch it."

Ahsoka's eyes narrowed. "Watch what?"

"Don't call her that. Trilla is _not_ fake."

"I didn't say she was _fake_, I just meant that she came off a little-."

"We're _done_ talking about this," Xur growled in annoyance. "If you've got some petty grudge that you girls love to manifest, I suggest you settle that shit later."

Ahsoka grumbled and mock saluted. "_Yes sir, General sir_."

He ignored her. The last thing he needed to focus on was Trilla's obvious distaste for Ahsoka, and the growing rivalry between them.

Something smelt of feces.

Xur stifled a reaction once they turned a corner in the trench, and he was greeted to the sight of two dead clone troopers, blood covering their neck areas and some of their limbs dismembered.

"Scouts," Xur grimaced, and he heard Raven reel in disgust behind him. "Droids didn't do this. Lockdown?"

The clone commando stepped forward and activated his MAHI, letting the holographic interface scan the two bodies. "Scout battalion," he relayed. "This kill is fresh. I'm trying to scan for footprints."

Admittedly, this was unlike anything Xur had ever seen from a Separatist attack. There wasn't usually this much blood, and droids _certainly_ didn't break bones like _this_.

Lockdown shut the device down and sighed. "Nothing, General. Whoever killed these men…they did it without leaving a _trace_."

"And they're probably still close by," Xur noted, his hilt in hand.

"It's him," Ahsoka said, her tone low. "It's the Wraith."

Xur snorted. "_Huh_. So Kaidan wasn't so full of shit after all."

The togruta pushed past him and knelt beside the bodies, and Xur could tell she was searching for something, both in the Force and with her eyes. It was then that Trilla finally made it to the front.

"What's…oh _god_," she reeled, covering her nose, and Xur gripped her shoulder in comfort.

"Yeah…it's rough," he admitted, turning to Raven. "We need to keep moving. Whoever did this can't be far, and I'm not letting you get picked off."

"I can find him," Ahsoka offered, rising to her feet. "I'll have to go alone, but I know how he operates."

"Like _hell_," Xur denied, stepping forward. "By yourself? Not a chance. You'll just get yourself killed."

"I wasn't really _asking_," she bit back.

He scoffed in disbelief. "Are you fuckin' bat-shit crazy? That's what this son of a bitch wants."

Xur sensed an almost _offended_ reaction to his statement, which baffled him enough to ignore it as simply a mistake. Then again, every time _Wraith_ was mentioned…she became very uncharacteristically quiet…reserved.

"I think you should let her go," Trilla suggested. "She obviously knows more about the Wraith than anyone else present."

Anyone who didn't know Trilla would think she was being supportive of the togruta…but _he_ knew better than that. It was a subtly antagonistic comment that would lie dormant within the receiver until they suddenly recalled it…and suffer its detonation within their mind. He knew…because he'd _experienced_ it before.

Ahsoka wasn't stupid…but she wasn't exactly adept at noticing subtle malintent, especially with people she thought were her friends. Barris Offee helped strengthen her skills, but she was still no match for Trilla.

"_I'll_ decide what we do," Xur pointed sternly, shooting Trilla a disguised warning.

"What would you have us do? Wait here until this Wraith descends upon us?" Trilla questioned, her gaze hardening on him. "You do see what he is capable of, right?"

"I also know what _I'm_ capable of, and this continuous…" he trailed off, danger sense rattling his spine. His eyes narrowed at the source, and his hearing enhanced…homing in on the countdown timer of a detonator hidden within the body of the dead clone.

Xur grabbed both Trilla and Ahsoka with each hand, shoving them back around the trench corner. "Move! Get down!"

The charge exploded, the shockwave ripping through the air just as Xur summoned a Force barrier absorbing the lethality of the explosion, but still managed to knock him backwards, landing atop two clones that had ducked below. His vision struggled to focus as dust filled his mouth and eyes, but he managed to regain enough and rise to his feet. Raven struggled to rise, while Lockdown was quick to recover, assisting his captain while Xur slid in between.

"Ahsoka!" he cried, shaking her motionless body that was faceplanted in the dirt. To his relief, she stirred, spitting dirt from her mouth.

"I'm alright. I'm alright," she assured, rubbing her eyes clear and popping her ears. "I think you throwing me did more damage than the explosion."

Xur smirked. "Sorry. Had to think fast."

"You didn't ask, but I'm alright as well," Trilla chimed in from behind, brushing herself off.

The zabrak winced in embarrassment. "Sorry…" he then noticed the growing bloodstain on her elbow. "You're bleeding."

Trilla hadn't even noticed it, and only now took a look, only to shrug in disinterest. "I've had and seen worse."

"_Good_," a mechanical voice, best described by Xur as _demonic_, sounded from above. The owner of that voice was nothing less than a fully armored _thing_ with red optics, armed to the teeth, and with hands that looked as if they could crush a boulder with a snap. "It'll make what comes next easier for you to swallow_._"

Raven backed off; his blaster brandished. "Sir…that's _him_."

"Yeah?" Xur questioned, rising to his feet. "_Fucking shoot him then!_"

Another blast detonated, this one from behind, and Xur felt the deaths of nearly half the squad he had brought along.

"I gotta say, I expected better," Wraith taunted, tossing away his detonator. "All those stories about you…and yet you walked right where I wanted you."

Xur spat. "Fuck this," he then leapt at full speed, barreling through the air.

"No, wait!" Ahsoka warned.

Too late. The zabrak collided into the hidden ray-shield, his skin charring to a crisp as Wraith simply watched him fall back into the trench, unmoving.

He scoffed as Trilla screamed. "_Wow_. Didn't think that would actually work."

Ahsoka kept her focus while Xur struggled to rise. "It only has one charge, open fire!" she commanded, and Raven gave the order, unleashing the full might of the rest of their squad. Wraith quickly brandished an energy shield from the side of his gauntlet, taking the full brunt of the attack while Ahsoka acrobatically flipped, kicking off the trench wall and over his defense. The Separatist soldier was forced to flip around and block Ahsoka's twin blades with the shield, before plowing into her as it deactivated, taking her down as well as pulling him out of sight of the troopers below.

"Commander Tano!" Raven cried from below.

"I've got this!" she insisted, managing to somehow wrestle Wraith off from atop her. "You're going to pay for that!" she visibly seethed with her sabers before her, while her adversary prowled about in a circling motion.

All Trilla could hear was the clashing of her blades against a resistive surface, and now all she cared about was Xur's scorched skin. He was lucky, as his armor took the brunt of the damage, as well as his insulated fabric, but any exposed skin was cracked and bleeding.

He writhed in pain, mixed with occasional screams through the waves that came. Trilla looked down upon him, visibly upset and distressed, while Lockdown took a knee beside her, his MAHI visible. "General…General are you alright?"

Xur groaned, drool oozing from his mouth. "No…no, I'm not alright!"

"Hold still!" Trilla urged, trying to focus her mind…trying to _listen_. It was a barrage of noise at first; the cries of pain from the battle beside them, the communication of countless beings, the songs of _hundreds_ of wounds. She saw them all, clones screaming as they held their own guts in their hands, some as they crawled along the dirt, their legs shattered and useless. Trilla had to push past it _all_…through all the pain…until…_there_.

She reached out like opposite poles to a magnet, her hand glowing with raw Force energy as she transferred her life force back into the zabrak. Gradually, his writhing stopped, and she could feel his pain ebbing away as his scorched skin repaired itself…removing the swelling, cracks, and all the darkness that ravaged his body.

Once he was healed, the glow faded from her hand, and Trilla fought off the lightheadedness that followed, her thumb then rubbing her palm like an instinct.

"Holy…" Lockdown gasped. "Jedi thing…yeah I see it now."

Raven was speechless. "Well done…Commander."

Trilla didn't answer, and simply helped Xur to his feet as the zabrak shook off the residual pain.

"That's two I owe you," he admitted.

Trilla nodded…and then smacked him across his cheek.

"_Hey!_" he protested. "The hell was that for?"

"_Dumbass_," she scolded, before corralling him into an embrace…in which he eventually realized he should return.

"Yeah, yeah sorry," he apologized when she let him go, maintaining a displeased look. "Uhhh…where's Ahsoka?"

"She's…" Trilla was about to say _fighting the Wraith_, but then realized there was no sound of battle above. Being the quickest, she backflipped over the top of the trench with her yellow blade ignited…only to find that Ahsoka and Wraith were long gone. To her right, however, was the wreck of a Providence-class Separatist dreadnaught. Most of it was either blown away or beginning to show signs of falling apart as it sustained damage from stray mortar shells.

Trilla turned back, looking over the squad. "They're gone."

"_What?_" Xur gasped, baffled, before leaping to her level to see for himself. His expression fell, and his anxiety spiked to a level that almost transferred to her. "We need to find her," he stated, already making his way to the ship, only to be stopped by Trilla.

"We _need_ to keep moving. If our side of the inver-."

"We can't just _leave _her!" Xur smacked her hand away. "Are you out of your damn mind? He'll tear her to shreds!"

"If _we_ stop to look for her, Anakin, Effa _and_ Kaidan will _all_ be torn to shreds!" Trilla didn't back down. "Besides…I've never known you to give up faith in your companions, so why don't you put a little in her?"

Xur just stared, looking as if he wanted to continue the argument, but was struggling to look past her words. Seeing that, she switched tactics, calming herself down.

"Look…_I'll_ go find her…but your men…they _need_ you to lead on," she reasoned, hoping that her words hit home.

He grumbled and looked away, and she knew that it was working. "Fine," he accepted. "But you'll contact me if _anything_ goes wrong."

Trilla chuckled. "Just get moving, _General_. Let me take it from here."

He shifted, somewhat begrudgingly, but mock saluted. "Yes ma'am."

She tipped her head and turned towards the ship, but not before he left the last word. "Trilla…be careful. _Please_," he urged.

Trilla smirked. "No promises."

* * *

"Hold on, hold on!" Effa insisted at the front of the group as they squeezed through the tight passageway Vorchenko had outlined. In her hand was the portable datapad outlining the known traps and defenses, with Anakin beside her, at the ready. "There! Atop the rubble. Ray shield."

Anakin nodded and carefully watched his step for any hidden mines, reaching out with the Force for the warning of the shield generator. All she could see was his probing behavior, until his saber ignited, and he slashed through the rubble, followed by the sparking of shield deactivation.

A mortar shell impacted just behind them, but they had come too close to the Separatist line to be in range. It was very possible the droids never expected them to reach this far, hence the growing ease of their travel.

"Nice," Kaidan praised, visibly uncomfortable, but all in, nonetheless. "How many more traps?"

Effa checked the last trap off their list, and smirked. "Looks like the tinnies are fresh out."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Rex warned. "The clankers might've rigged new ones, especially this close."

"Rex is right," Anakin agreed, his voice nearly drowned out by another shell exploding behind them. "And they obviously know we're coming."

"And we already lost a few to mines we didn't have on the list," Kaidan mentioned. "You sure we have the numbers to pull this off, Skywalker?"

Anakin mulled his response, his eyes tracing over the clones lined up behind them. While he thought, Effa took the liberty of climbing atop the rubble to get a look at what was behind.

"Effa, watch your head!" Anakin warned. "The Separatist line is right there!"

Ignoring his warning, she was graced with a glimpse of the open landscape that eventually gave way to the Separatist trench, with mortar cannons lining the back, their barrels pointed upwards as they continued to fire.

Danger sense barely saved her from taking a blaster bolt straight through her head as she ducked back behind cover.

"_Effa!_" Anakin growled.

"I'm alright, relax. The trench is right there, but we'll never make it. They'll gun us all down," she assured. "Where's our inversion?"

Anakin shook off his annoyance and resorted to his wrist-comm. "Master, come in. Where are you?"

Sounds of battle came through on his end as Obi-Wan replied. "_We're just about to make our run, stand ready!_"

"Copy that," he then switched the frequency. "Xur…how's it coming?"

"_We're running a bit behind_," he answered, and Anakin detected some detest in his voice. "_Found the Wraith. He's a real charmer…and I seemed to have misplaced your Padawan._"

Effa watched Anakin's eyes spread into perfect circles, and his anger sparked a bonfire in the Force itself.

"Get her back, now!" he ordered.

"Anakin…" Effa eased, but he roughly turned away from her.

"_Trilla is on it. She insisted. Thought better than to leave you for dead_," Xur half-mocked in his response, as if Anakin's accusatory tone was unnecessary.

"She's fuckin' crazy," Kaidan gasped. "He'll kill Trilla even if she finds her."

"_Tell Kaidan to keep his opinion to himself_," Xur shot back. "_Ahsoka seemed pretty sure she could handle it, so I-_."

"That's not the issue, Xur!" Anakin roared, and Effa had never experienced such rage from him before…_never_. "I said get her back, and I _mean _that."

"_I'm doing all I can!_" Xur retorted, not backing down. "_This inversion is all we got, so you either suck it up, or we lose this fucking battle!_"

Anakin growled, and Effa knew that the zabrak was speaking the truth. "Anakin…_you_ trained her…have some faith! If you've taught her all you know, then she'll be fine."

There was detectable hurt in his eyes, as well as unrelenting anxiety…but Effa's words kicked in his battle sense, as well as his _common_ sense.

"We're in position, Xur," Anakin reported. "Make your move."

"_Copy that. See you on the other side._"

As Anakin cut the connection, Effa stepped towards him, carefully gripping his shoulder in support. "She'll be fine."

He sighed. "That's not what I'm worried about," turning to face her, much to her surprise. "He's a problem…a problem I've failed to rectify…and she's the one who's suffered from it."

Effa inched closer, presenting herself in support. "Come on, General. Let's rush this trench."

Anakin nodded. "Right. Men, ready yourselves!"

* * *

Ahsoka vaulted over the metal beam, landing with ease as her boots barely kicked up any sand. Her green blades hummed with energy as they remained ablaze, the sun peeking through the cracks in the capital shipwreck. The adversary she had been tailed by followed quickly, attacking with raw power as his knives cut through the air, impacting her blades and reflecting their energy with cortosis coating.

"Almost had me that time," Ahsoka smirked, counterattacking at full speed with her blades held in reverse, masterfully displaying Form IV techniques. Her slashes and kicks were met with defense via his gauntlets or sheer might of his powerful hands.

"You're getting better," he complimented, batting away her errant leg and kicking her to the ground, hard enough to make her think twice, but not enough to hurt her. "You still overcommit."

Ahsoka flipped back to her feet, holding her blades before her. "Master Windu said you'd be here. Should've known about the detonite charges."

"Crude…but pretty effective," Wraith acknowledged, circling her. "I'm surprised it worked as well as it did."

Her eyes panned away as she grimaced at the loss of some of her men, but that was when Wraith struck, and a quick warning allowed her to roll away as his tackle missed. Retaliating with a force push, the attack picked up sand and Wraith tumbled over, but recovered quick enough to land back on his feet.

"Got me that time," Wraith admitted. "Nice."

"Heh," Ahsoka chuckled. "I'm tough game."

"I know," he nodded, firing a grappling hook from his wrist that wrapped around her legs. Instinctively, she tried to wiggle free, but found him quickly atop her, knocking her sabers loose from her grip.

Wraith held her down, and she grumbled in defeat. "Dammit."

"Impressed?" he asked.

Ahsoka snorted. "Take that mask off and show me why I should be."

She could only hear him huff in agreement as he let her go, moving his hands to deactivate the section seals of his gear, allowing the air to _hiss_ from his terrifying mask. When he lifted, Ahsoka saw the face of a man no older than her, his features nigh-perfect in her eyes.

"_Now_ I'm impressed," she smiled.

Wraith returned that smile. "Been awhile."

"I know," Ahsoka admitted, propping herself up. "I've missed you."

Neither of them wished to prolong it any further, and their heads dipped towards each other, eyes closing in a state of bliss.

A lightsaber ignited.

Ahsoka and Wraith both turned, and the togruta's eyes widened in shock.

"And here I thought your greatest virtue was your righteousness, Ahsoka Tano," Trilla taunted, her yellow blade humming beside her. "Never been so elated to be wrong."

* * *

_At last_, the free-flowing nature of battle had arrived, and Xur was finally purged of his anxiety. There was a simplistic ease to cutting down droids in wholesale, especially with how near effortless the practice was. It was even more adrenaline inducing when he plunged into the Separatist trench, the enclosed space funneling them into his dancing blades as he cut through them with a savagery that would make even the sadistic pause if it had been living beings.

Xur had cut through an entire platoon until the droids finally turned in retreat, Anakin's forward attack thinning the side forces plenty enough for his team to rout whatever forces remained.

However…once the adrenaline ebbed away…he felt it. _Danger_…but not for him…

For _Trilla_.

* * *

"What are you talking about?" Ahsoka gasped as Wraith quickly pulled himself away from the togruta but maintaining a protective closeness.

Trilla eyed the both of them, trying hard not to smile at her own predictive abilities. "How characteristically ignorant of you. Did you really think I spent all this time listening to your presumptuous attitude and pompous behavior for the fun of it?"

Wraith kept his eyes locked on Trilla, his fingers closing into a fist. "You must be Trilla Suduri," he noticed, turning to Ahsoka with reservation. "You two friends?"

"I…thought so," Ahsoka admitted, rising to her feet. "Although she did strike me as a little…_off_."

"Indeed," Trilla tipped her head. "I'm sure you thought no one in the War Room noticed your quiet reaction to the mentioning of the _Wraith_," she taunted, maintaining her ready stance with her blade ignited. "But _I_ knew better. I looked past my own distaste for you to test a suspicion…and here we are."

Ahsoka raised her hands in an easing manner. "Trilla…look, I don't know what I did to you-."

"No?" Trilla spat, arching forward. "It's not about what you've _done_…it's about your obvious carelessness for those your touch. All this time he _raves_ about you; how great the two of you work together…and how he isn't sure he could make it through this war without you."

She maintained her hard gaze on Ahsoka, her eyes threatening to kill her where she stood. "And then here I see you with…I don't even know _what_ he is," Trilla then leaned in, slowly approaching her. "What would your Master say?"

"No," Ahsoka shook her head, visibly distressed. "Trilla, you _can't_ tell him."

"I wonder…" Trilla began to smile almost wickedly, not bothering to bottle down the corruptive emotions taking control of her. "What would Xur think of his…_fierce commander_ now? Pulling at his heartstrings while she _entertains_ an af-," her words were cut short as Wraith grabbed ahold of her neck and lifted her upwards, cutting air from her lungs in brutal fashion.

"Wait, no!" Ahsoka grabbed ahold of his arm as Trilla tried to claw herself free. "Put her down!"

"She's my target, Ahsoka. The healer. Besides, I've heard enough trash talk come out of her mouth," he justified, maintaining his grip.

Trilla could feel herself beginning to fade, but his enormous strength was far too much for her to wiggle free. Her rage only deepened for the togruta, and all she felt as her last moments approached was _hatred_. She _wanted_ to kill her…more than _anything_.

"Wraith…please let her…" Ahsoka begged but trailed off.

In the corner of her eye, Trilla spotted a new figure erupt from below, and in a fraction of a second, a fist crashed into Wraith's skull like a starship against a building, freeing her from his grip. She landed in a heap, sucking in desperate gasps of air as coughs followed, massaging her bruised neck.

"You touch her again…" Xur growled, letting Wraith pick himself up from the zabrak's superhuman attack. "And I'll _fucking kill you_."

Wraith pulled his glove from his jaw, revealing blood that had oozed from his mouth. "Haven't been punched like that since…well, _ever_."

"Glad I've impressed you," Xur shrugged, igniting his titian blade and stepping forward, only to have Ahsoka block his path.

"The both of you, stop it!" she pleaded, standing in between two champions of their respective sides of the Clone Wars; two junkyard hounds prepared to hash it out for the glory of the galaxy's fiercest warrior. "No one has to fight!"

"Like _hell_," Xur growled, threatening to push past her. "Give me one minute with this _fucker_…just one minute."

"Try it…and we'll see," Wraith replied, his tone a warning. "I could've killed her with only a little more pressure."

"Can't we just talk this out? Please?!" Ahsoka continued.

"Talk this out?" Xur's eyes narrowed. "What? You _know_ this guy?"

"More than you could understand," Wraith answered. "I've known her a long time."

Ahsoka grimaced, but Xur slightly backed off, his eyes returning to her. "Is that right?"

"Look…" she eased. "It's not what you…"

"Tell him…" Trilla gasped, still massaging her neck. "…the _truth_…or _I_ will."

"What truth?" he asked.

Ahsoka's eyes widened with hurt, looking as if she had been caught red-handed in the middle of an illegal act. Trilla waited for the sweet bliss of her pompous attitude dissipating forever…buried by the endless embarrassment of her foolhardy and reckless transgression being exposed for the galaxy to see. At last…the barrier to her own happiness could be removed.

"Xur…" Ahsoka gulped. "We're…Wraith and I…are _together_."

It was inexplainable, Xur's reaction to it. Trilla found it easier to interpret through emotions, rather than physical reaction…since there really was none. Inside she felt his heart sink…buried to the bottom of his essence in an impenetrable darkness that could never be breached. After that had run its course, came a rising realization that everything he had ever done to win her affection had been in vain, and the time he wasted with her was gone _forever_. With that, came anger…a bubbling cauldron that had always been there; a dormant volcano that had been begging to erupt at the right moment.

And its time had come.

His head turned to her, his expression unreadable, and she simply said: "I'm sorry."

The zabrak locked his eyes with her and let them drift back to Wraith.

"I'm sorry too."

What happened next occurred in the span of a few seconds.

Ahsoka tumbled backwards from a lightning fast gesture, and Wraith quickly retaliated with a swung fist, only to see it stopped _cold_ against Xur's own gauntlet. The super-soldier's eyes watched in curiosity as his immense strength was not only _matched_…but surpassed.

Xur shoved his arm away and swung his blade with a vicious ferocity that Wraith barely avoided with his unnatural reflexes, weaving in between each strike until he ran out of room behind him. The Jedi, engulfed in his own rage, spun and drove his saber towards him with infinite malintent, only to see it bury itself into the metal as Wraith ducked, grabbing ahold of his outstretched arm and twisting it behind his back. Grunting in pain, Xur called his second blade into his hand and stabbed behind, grazing his adversary's ribs as it found its way in between two protective plates.

Freeing himself as Wraith fought off his wound, Xur extended both arms in a hurricane-force push. Wraith cartwheeled back onto his feet quickly and brandished a hidden blaster, managing to fire a shot straight through Xur's defenses and grazing him in the exact same spot. Enraged, Xur charged forward, and the two combatants locked their grips on each other's wrists.

"What's this Eon? Jealousy?" Wraith grunted, holding the force-enhanced man of intense fury at bay. "Jedi usually let go of their rage."

"I don't care. You hurt Trilla, so I'm going to hurt _you_," Xur promised.

"This wasn't supposed to…get…personal," Wraith struggled, the zabrak's use of archaic magic enhancing his strength enough to push him backwards. "But since you did that to _Ahsoka_," he growled, and he began to push back. "I'll have to make an exception."

"What's she to you?!" the zabrak shouted, unable to break their deadlock. "You think she'll ever really love you?!"

Wraith roared and blew him over with his raw power, his fist colliding into the ground with a loud _clang_ that reverberated through the air, Xur's roll sparing him a bone-shattering blow. The zabrak kicked in retaliation, only to see his foot caught with his adversary's gloved hand. With one twist, he screamed in pain as his knee's tendons threatened to snap. Instead of accepting the pain as it was, Xur _embraced_ it, pooling energy from the wound to fuel his strength.

Pushing off the ground, Xur flipped his leg back into place and extended his free, the centrifugal force adding to the boot that crashed into Wraith's jaw and knocked him free. His left knee begged him to stop, but he launched himself, landing atop the stunned super-soldier and wrapping both hands around his neck.

"What?!" Xur taunted as he squeezed the life out of him. "Never faced a Jedi like _me _before?!"

Wraith's eyes locked with an intensity Xur felt down his spine, and both of his massive hands wrapped around Xur's wrists and pried his arms free of his neck. Shocked for the moment, Wraith returned the favor, locking Xur in the exact position his adversary had him. Air was cut from his lungs _entirely_, and the zabrak couldn't even muster spit to fly from his mouth.

"You should've let us talk it out," he spat, his lips covered in blood, closing his grip.

_Enough of this._

Xur placed his hands on Wraith's chest and unleashed his anger in the form of force lightning, electrocuting his strangler while also launching him through the air, landing in a static heap at the other side of the rusted overlook their duel had continued on.

Both struggled to rise, one coughing as his air returned to his lungs, the other managing his spasming muscles as the paralyzing effect wore off.

It was like watching two unmatched titans leap across continents in Trilla's eyes, neither her nor Ahsoka finding it wise to intervene until they exhausted themselves. Wraith's undeniable strength and cunning was met with Xur's raw ferocity and sheer power…but Trilla could see that her zabrak counterpart was only one wrong move from seeing himself killed…and one lucky hit from killing the man Ahsoka was obviously in love with.

That was when the realization hit her…seeing Xur and Wraith fight distracted her enough to notice how her jealousy had not only taken her over…but _influenced_ her to spark the exact bloody confrontation that was playing out before her eyes. It was a wave of guilt that she couldn't describe nor force away, and she knew in that moment that she had made a grave mistake. This _deceit_ and childish infighting wasn't _her_…it belonged to a persona that kept her awake at night, skulking through her dreams like a dark leviathan.

It was a persona she'd _never_ let come to pass. She couldn't stop what she had done…but maybe she could stop this.

Xur and Wraith finally clambered to their feet, both battered and bruised from their stalemate, but far from done inflicting pain upon each other.

"Wait!" Trilla shouted. "I was wrong!"

They both paused. Whether it was from her voice's distraction or genuine concern didn't matter. She had grabbed their attention.

"This is all on me," Trilla admitted. "Just…hear me out…will you?"

The two of them wanted nothing more than to continue, but Ahsoka seemed to catch on, adding to her effort. "Both of you, _please!_" she nigh begged. "Enough is enough!"

Xur kept a reserved stance, but Wraith seemed to back off momentarily, giving him a chance to think twice. "Alright Trilla…say your piece."

She swallowed, rising to her feet. "I was jealous…I'll admit it. It's embarrassing really…but I _was_," she turned to Ahsoka, who tried inserting herself between the two once again. "I let my emotions get to me and I _screwed up_."

Wraith shook his head. "I don't see how this changes anything."

"Shut up," Xur warned, earning an advancing motion from his adversary.

"For _fuck_ sake, stop _fighting!_" Trilla exploded. "The two of you so self-righteous…fighting over a girl who has _already_ made her choice!"

Shockingly enough, Ahsoka nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're _both_ pissing me off!"

Xur and Wraith both locked their gaze upon her. "What?" they asked in unison.

"Fighting over me? Really?!" Ahsoka scoffed. "Not only is that _unattractive_, but it's cringy and _childish!_"

"Hey!" Xur protested. "He grabbed Trilla by the neck first!"

"Right after she threatened to expose our relationship!" Wraith justified.

"Oh boo-fuckin'-hoo!"

They both growled and marched forward, but not before Ahsoka held Wraith back and Trilla grabbed Xur by the forearm, pulling him away.

"Just give me _one more second_ with this guy," Xur growled, but not fighting Trilla off.

"Come try it, Jedi, I'll shove that saber up your-."

"BOTH OF YOU STOP!" the combined voices of Trilla and Ahsoka roared through the room, enhanced by their knowledge of the Force projecting it into a scream. Raw, unblemished silence followed, both combatants unwilling to object to the women giving them stern, direct orders.

Shocked straight, Xur cleared his throat. "So uh…wanna talk it out?"

Wraith maintained his look, but another nudge from Ahsoka applied the same reaction. "Whatever you say."

* * *

_**Demeter**_**, 19 BBY**

**Padawan's Quarters**

It was hard-fought and unspeakably brutal, but the Battle of Tranbir IX ended in a Republic victory. They were still a long way from complete planetary control…but now the Republic could focus their efforts elsewhere and stop losing men to the meatgrinder that it was. For Trilla, it was a chance to recuperate herself…and reflect on her decisions.

Never before had she had issues with the Dark Side, but this was the first real threat of it she had ever faced. She had been so sure that she was in the right; pursuing justice for another woman swiping her closest friend from her childhood away…and yet she had descended to new lows she didn't think she was capable of. It was almost as if she had been _possessed_; that persona she always feared coming to light at last.

She felt sorry, but honestly, she still didn't care much for Ahsoka. What she had done…how she handled the situation with her and Wraith…it was reckless and foolhardy, stomping over Xur's heart without much concern for his own feelings…and not for a _second_ did she buy that Ahsoka had never expressed feelings to him in return.

Nonetheless, it was over now. Xur knew the truth, and even after he had settled things with Wraith after their scrap, he and Ahsoka were no longer sharing moments of banter like before. In that, Trilla felt sorry for him, as she had no intention of ruining a friendship between the two.

Who was she kidding? _Of course_ she had, and if Trilla hadn't saved Xur's life for the second time, he'd probably be genuinely upset with her.

The guilt she felt found their way through her eyes in the form of tears as she sat back against her bed support, Effa sitting beside her.

"And Wraith?" Effa asked, her arm wrapped around her friend's shoulder. "What happened to him?"

Trilla sniveled, wiping her eyes clear. "We agreed to…part ways. The battle was over, thanks to you, Kaidan and Anakin…so, Xur eventually agreed to let him go, not like we had much of a choice in the matter. It was that or the two of them fought to the death, and I wasn't too keen on that idea, neither was Ahsoka."

Effa narrowed her eyes in thought. "It sounds like Ahsoka knew him…were they friends?"

Trilla had _also_ promised to keep her secret, despite her better judgment, but she knew how Anakin would react if he was aware of the full extent of their relationship. Best to leave it under wraps.

"Yes…friends is all," Trilla answered, ready to change the subject. "What about you? What happened to you three?"

Effa smirked. "Ha! We kicked clanker butt. Anakin and I were in _perfect_ sync…you should've seen us. It was as if we were _meant_ to be together."

Trilla laughed, her tears dissipating. "Tell me about it."

"Well, it all started when we rushed over the trench…"

* * *

"Just another day…no?" Xur asked, keeping pace beside Anakin as they wandered through the halls of the capital ship, rather aimless this time around. The zabrak maintained a limp in his walk, but it was nothing a bacta injection couldn't ease for now.

"You're looking a little worse for wear," Anakin noted with a smirk. "You're lucky we completed the attack _without_ your help."

"Yeah, well I called in the air strike…call it even?" he smiled back.

Anakin rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine."

In all honesty, Xur had clung to Anakin since the battle had ended, unable to look Ahsoka in the eye. Granted, staying near Anakin was perhaps the worst way to avoid her, but it had worked thus far, and he found it prudent to speak to his old friend.

"You weren't kidding about the Wraith. Nasty business."

Anakin's eyes fell to his knee and he tipped his head. "I can see that. Want to tell me what happened?"

Xur didn't answer right away. There was a part of him that felt obligated to inform his old friend that his Padawan may be in danger, but the stronger portion of his comradery and fleeting respect for Ahsoka kept his lips sealed. Even so, Trilla had promised to stay quiet, and that went for him as well. It felt _wrong_, but it had to be done.

"Eh. We got in a little fight. Might've twisted my leg up, but not before I gave him a few bruises. He then engaged in a _strategic retreat_; you could say. Heh…Seppies on the run is hilarious just thinking about it."

"That it is my friend…" Anakin nodded, giving him a brotherly pound on the back. "That it is."

Still…deep down, something nagged at Xur like an errant insect.

What would become of he and Trilla now?

* * *

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Surface of Dathomir**

Cere let her hand glide over the durasteel hilt in her grip, its silvery finish beginning to fade as it saw little care taken to it. Of all the things she could've taken from the Fortress as she escaped…this was all it had been…a relic of a past life that was long gone now.

The former hilt of her Padawan learner.

It felt like robbery continuing to keep possession of it, as she herself never deserved to hold the weapon of a Jedi ever again. All that rage she had unleashed on that day…after all the _pain_ she had suffered…to see Trilla's eyes as she pulled over that helmet was the final strike that broke her. In the end, as she ran through those halls…she felt she would find some redemption in recovering that hilt, a way of saving a part of her padawan that still remained.

She had felt it…that disturbance in the Force…the same nightmare she had seen Trilla conjuring death fields to consume entire villages…and her eventual descent into absolute madness and insatiable hunger.

Unable to see it any longer, she stashed the hilt back into a small chest.

Cal had left the ship days ago, and still hadn't returned from Dathomir, communication with him shoddy at best. She feared the worst. Dathomir was a nexus of the Dark Side of the Force, and that nagging fear of losing another learner remained. She felt so helpless against it all, and simply put…

All that transpired next was beyond her power.

* * *

**That was a blast to write, and I hope it was worth the wait for you all. I'd like to extend my sincere thanks to DFM23 for allowing the use of his OC in this chapter, and if you're itching for more, there's **_**plenty **_**more where that came from. If you're interested in a gritty take on the Clone Wars series from the perspective of a Separatist super-soldier, head on over to his page and check out **_**Star Wars: The Clone Wars – Rise of the Wraith**_**. This could not have been done without his help, and I really hope you all enjoyed this massive chapter.**

**As for where we go from here, this is where all the major conflicts start playing out. This next Act will revisit some old characters, as well as wrap up a few arcs that are ready to play out…all resulting in the confrontation we've all been waiting for.**

**Thanks for reading, and I'll be back soon with more to come!**


	16. Fury

**CHAPTER 12**

Fury

"Anger and intolerance are enemies of correct understanding."

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

It had been many years since Trilla had been _gifted_ something.

As her final reward for being tokened the Emperor's Wrath, Palpatine had commissioned her a Razor-Class Imperial Interceptor. While quick, quiet and nimble, it was also made for a crew of six, complete with a captain's quarters, dining area, holomap room and multiple cabins for uses of her own desire.

She could practically _live_ in the ship, especially if she was the only passenger.

Much of her time so far had been spent training; learning to use her newfound powers. If she could say so herself, she felt that her skill with Death Field had increased drastically, even in a short time. Much of it had come natural to her, as opposed to the use of Force Lightning, which had been nigh-impossible to recreate. The energy required, as well as the _control_…it was beyond her knowledge for now, but she felt she was ready enough to start hunting.

But first, she needed her new blade.

It was mostly symbolic, as she certainly knew, but it was necessary, nonetheless. Her old blade, the one the _Second Sister_ had used to chase down battered and old Jedi across the galaxy, would no longer be able to serve her.

Across her workbench was an array of lightsaber parts, most of them her own, but a few had been provided to her by the Emperor himself. The first things she had removed were the circular tracks that allowed the emitters to spin, but she had learned that relying on such a mechanism made her complacent at times, and not properly prepared for another to exploit the stationary area.

Not to mention the fact that it restricted her movement and dexterity, two things that needed to be _impeccable_ if she were to catch her prey. Beyond that she felt the need for more _aesthetic_ improvements. While what she used to wield got by on its slick design, it was mass-produced, sloppy and most of all, not _her_. The Emperor's Wrath would need to make a statement whilst also remaining in the shadows, striking and retreating with lethal precision, and her lightsaber was the key.

Before she had a legion of stormtroopers behind her…now she just had _herself_.

Finally exposing the core of her old blade, the pulsating kyber crystal was emitting what she equated to a scream, its energies sapped with each ignition, resulting in the bleeding red glow it had emitted. Focusing her mind, she gently pulled the crystal from the core, and at last the screaming stopped. Trilla couldn't explain it…but she felt _relief_ from the object, relinquished of its pain that it had suffered at her hand. She let it fall into her glove, and with her touch, she felt it…change.

The sickly purple glow that she conjured transferred itself from her hand and into the crystal…and _everything_ she once felt from the crystal was gone. It had been reborn, its potential realized in the hands of its true master, not abused by an ignorant child.

All the pieces naturally came into place as Trilla closed her eyes, imagining the hilt in her hand as she cut down her enemies, tracked down the last remnant of the Jedi Order…and finally expunged the last piece of her current imbalance.

When she closed her hand, it was there. Her eyes were greeted to a slick yet crude design; its black-green finish embracing the grip of death as it ripped life from all who stood to oppose her.

Gripping each side with a hand, she ignited it, and the purple hue illuminated the room, both blades roaring with power. Giving it a spin, it responded to her commands with a precision she had missed dearly, and she could already feel its increased power.

With a smile, she extinguished it, properly returning it to her left hip, and there was but one more task to complete before her hunt could begin.

Her ears twitched with detection and Trilla whirled around, her new cape flapping behind her as she reached for her hilt.

Looking up at her was a…_spherical_ droid…truthfully unlike anything she had witnessed before. Why it was on her ship was another matter.

"Wrath," the droid greeted in perfect basic, emulated by a low-pitched female voice, its head sliding up its spherical body. "I see you have made yourself acquainted."

Trilla was too confused to react negatively, but also being in a relatively good mood pushed her to be more loquacious than usual. "Um…yes. Did you come with the ship?"

The little droid rotated its head, its singular red optic signifying its gaze. "I believe that is one valid way of describing it. My former _master_ was Admiral Reyna Vorchenko, and I have deducted through my superior processors that I am to serve as a…_parting gift_."

That must mean she knew their partnership would come to an end now that Trilla had become the Emperor's Wrath. It was too bad, really. In their short time together Trilla had learned much from the enigmatic officer and having a competent ally like herself certainly contributed to her current promotion. By all means, however, Trilla had no intention of severing their relationship, and judging by the presence of the droid, Vorchenko shared that idea.

Trilla scoffed in amusement. "And what makes you believe you have…" she crossed her arms with her eyes panned downwards. "_superior_ processing?"

"It is a simple reality of my construction, Wrath," the droid answered. "I am not a droid; I am a virtual intelligence with an advanced spherical construction. You will find me quite capable of preforming any task you wish to the highest standard."

"Interesting," Trilla mused. "Could you shake hands?"

The droid seemed to give her what she could best describe as a _deadpan_, before revealing a small metal prod from inside its body. "I could shake with my shock prod, but I could imagine this is detrimental to organic physiology, although useful if you ever require me for interrogation."

Trilla almost laughed. "You _are_ a smart droid."

"I am _not_ a _droid_."

"_Right_, my apologies," Trilla tipped her head. "What about a name?"

The VI readjusted itself to perform a bow with its head. "My designation is Spherical Artificial Virtual Intelligence, model 1, SAVI-1 for short, however I prefer that you refer to me as Rava."

"Rava…and why do you prefer this?"

Rava raised her head and sighed. "Do you organics refer to each other as numbers, or don't you all have your own names? I fail to see the distinction."

Trilla shrugged. "You're speaking to someone once called the _Second Sister_."

"Yes, yes, I know this, Wrath," Rava shook her head, rolling closer to her feet. "But now that you have grown beyond your birthplace, don't you prefer to be called something else?"

The Emperor's Wrath almost blew her off again, immediately finding an urge to kick the ball-shaped machine away just for reminding her of the Inquisitorious. All those spineless creatures were beneath her now, and Trilla had certainly grown beyond the ignorant and frail inquisitor she once was.

But in that case…Rava was _right_. Xur Eon wouldn't fear an inquisitor, just as he never feared the Second Sister…if anything he _toyed_ with her. If she was to truly achieve what her Emperor had decreed, to cut herself from her old life, then it began with what Rava entailed. The galaxy, and _Xur Eon_, would learn to fear her for who she was, not for who she pretended to be.

"Wrath?" Rava asked, cocking her head in an intrigued manner. "Have I said something unsettling?"

Trilla said nothing, and turned to the mirror nearby, which was where the old garments laid sprawled on the floor, the red and black hues that once served her well. What she wore now was not much apart from it, but the red was gone, replaced by that same purple her blade adopted…except this purple was wholesome…_dark_, but also royal in a sense. The silver imperial insignia just over her right breast stuck out like a serviceman's medal, forged with a layer of blaster-halting _beskar_ armor plating. Her uniform was not afraid to show her curves but maintained a level of discretion that was both captivating and respectful.

There was a mask, of course…brand new and provided to her by her Emperor. It was a near carbon-copy of her old, except with the new color scheme…but she was _done_ hiding from herself. She was the Emperor's Wrath, and she wanted the galaxy to know who she really was.

She wanted _Xur_ to know who she really was.

"Your words, Rava," Trilla finally spoke. "They ring true."

Rava looked up to her new _master_ as she turned back to face her, and there was a shared glance of acceptance for their new partnership. "This pleases me, Wrath."

Trilla smirked. "So, I'd like the tour…"

* * *

**Ziost, 14 BBY**

**Estate Outskirts**

"Too aggressive," Valeria judged, locking her crimson blade with Xur's as he swung in a flurry, his full strength displayed before her. Instead of easing into this practice session, he had chosen to unleash Form VII from the start, just to get an idea of where it stood in her mind. To his misfortune, she was able to sidestep past an errant swing and blast him with a shock of lightning, dropping him to the rocky surface. "A smart Sith would've killed you with ease for that."

He breathed, rising back to his feet and holding his blade forward. "Do you have to blast me with lightning _every_ time?"

She twirled her blade. "If I deem it necessary for you to learn, then yes."

Xur attacked again, this time incorporating Form II defensive techniques to shore up his open areas, but just found himself unable to attack effectively, and eventually suffered the same result as before. Each blast of lightning took its toll, feeling as if his body was being sapped of copious amounts of energy each time he absorbed it.

After the fifth time being hit by it, his legs would not allow him to rise, struggling to even get _air_ in his lungs. "For the record, you're a shit mother," he wheezed.

"What did I tell you?" she pointed her blade. "_Everything_ I do is for your benefit."

"Yeah?" Xur challenged, looking up. "So what is this supposed to teach me? How to get knocked on my ass consistently?"

Valeria seethed in disappointment, visibly frustrated. "Still, you use your lightsaber to think, instead of your _mind_. Tell me: whatever will you do when Suduri unleashes a Death Field upon you? Will you fall to your knees and beg for mercy, as you are doing now?"

The zabrak's teeth grit, and he tried to rise. "I'm not begging for-."

"Yes, you are!" Valeria bellowed and hit him with another blast, this one leaving him gasping for air. "Go on, beg! Beg her to spare you! Give her what she's _always_ wanted: to see you writhe in agony before her, just as she drains the last of your pathetic life away!"

Xur roared and outstretched both hands, casting bolts of lightning from his fingers. Each of his digits felt as if they had been dipped in molten carbonite, and the pain became far too much to bear. In agony, he ended the flow, screaming as his searing hands burned worse than ever before.

Valeria had absorbed his attack into her single outstretched hand, and she only looked down upon him as the pain eventually ebbed away, leaving him to desperate gasps of breath. She knelt, her voice imploring his attention. "If you view the Force as _only_ a method of attack, then you will fall prey to those you do not fully understand," she said, reaching for his hand, still ravaged with pain. Unsure as to why, he allowed her to take it, and she proceeded to gently massage it with her own. "What you feel as pain is your misunderstanding of this power you wield. You try to force it to obey your commands, and it fights back. Lightning is like a dragon, as it cannot be tamed by merely your talent or potential. It requires _respect_, and you must _earn_ the right to wield it."

Xur couldn't understand it, but his mother was proving to be perhaps the most masterful deceiver he had ever encountered. She could electrocute him a thousand times, and in the end, he'd still forgive her. The harshness she had given him was placated by the love he felt for her, and it was almost embarrassing that he continued to allow her to torment him this way…winning his heart just to break it _over_ and _over_.

_Just like Trilla._

It was so pathetic and demeaning, to fall for it.

_No more._

"Hit me again then," he said, pulling his hand away.

His mother gave him a concerned look. "I have no plans on killing you."

"No," he shook his head. "No, I'm done with this half-mother, half-teacher shit. Hit me again."

"Xur, I cannot-."

"Hit me again!"

"_You do not give commands to me!_" she shouted and unleashed a torrent with both hands, in which he took to the fullest. "If you cannot learn respect, then I will _make you learn!_"

Xur pooled the destructive energies, embracing the pain as it was…accepting its place within him. His hands gripped the dirt beneath him, and he felt that power grow, expanding within his core, threatening to spill out and end his life.

In that moment, he felt anger in his _every_ connection to the Force. Anger at this father for leaving him behind, and at his mother for deceiving him. He felt it with the Jedi Order; to the Council that allowed Darth Sidious to rise from beneath their notice, to his Master, who had been foolish enough to allow himself to be killed. To Ahsoka, who had chosen another and subsequently abandoned him. To Kaidan, who had allowed Xur to kill him on Iridonia. To Effa, who only fueled the hatred and anger within him. To Cere, who had broken and given Trilla to the Empire. To Cal, who had been ignorant enough to allow another to shake his faith with him. To Trilla, who had _betrayed_ him.

But most of all, beyond _anything_ else, his hatred _burned_ for Anakin Skywalker. That weak-willed and pathetic degenerate who had allowed his fear to control him, and then dared to justify the rest of his worthless existence behind a mask, torturing Jedi, murdering innocents…all because he had been too _weak_ to look beyond his nightmares.

Every fiber in his body wanted nothing more than to squeeze the life out of that man, to watch his eyes fade into the cold embrace of death…and to know that he, _Xur Eon_, had been the one who finally ended his miserable existence.

He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill him more than _anything_ in the galaxy.

He felt it…this was the _Dark Side_.

Xur looked up, still engulfed in lightning, and raised his hand. His eyes seared yellow as he pooled the energy, collapsing the torrent into a sphere before him, letting the energies fuel his own. Once free of his body, he stood, and Valeria ceased her attack. She was in shock, realizing that she had lost all control, but also in awe, as he had achieved what she set out to teach him.

Closing his fist and dispersing the energy back into the Force itself, his legs gave out, and his vision tunneled to black.

* * *

**Telos, 14 BBY**

**Outskirts**

At last, Brutis had a quality drink in his canteen…whiskey, mixed with cinnamon from the fields of Kiros. He'd have killed to get a shot of this on Zeffo, and ever since he told the Second Sister to eat shit and die slow, it had been on his mind. It was beginning to affect his mood, meaning a lot more people along the way from Rhen Var had their head split open just for looking at him funny.

Freedom, however brief it was, was serving him well, and his ears certainly appreciated the lack of tortured screaming every night. He'd happily deal with Imperial retaliation than put up with any more of those scumbags strapping kids to lightning rods. Knowing that really did make killing them unapologetic and easy work, almost like watching a helpless man be beaten to death, but then know that they had a hobby for throwing little girls in a dungeon. Then, even the most self-righteous shit-cunt would just stand there and nod, saying: "yeah, that fucker deserves it."

Making life simple was his specialty.

"Ow! Dammit!" Petro yelped, twirling around with a stick in his hand.

Spending his time with a Jedi kid he just happened to stumble across was making it far less than simple. Brutis asked himself every day, around mid-sunrise, why the fuck he gave a shit about him. It would be so much easier to just go off alone, but part of him figured the kid could be a bargaining chip should he need an out…and also possibly a powerful sidekick he could groom up. The only issue was he didn't know jack shit about the Force…only that it could be used to either make people scream or…that's about it.

The Second Sister was probably a bad example. While annoying, the bitch sure was good at getting information out of cowardly slimes…almost impressive even.

_Fuck her. Fuck them all._

All of them were a bunch of swineherds, a mob of peasants in fancy armor. He could recall the time he had to work under the _real_ Second Brother, who…for all he knew was a rotting corpse in some Iridonian refinery…_ah_…that _was_ a comforting thought. Xur Eon snapping the Third Sister's leg was also quite satisfying. Of all the annoying ones, she certainly was the worst, and to see that prissy smile wiped from her face was sweet bliss that accompanied each drink of whisky.

Petro hit himself in the leg again, the stick falling from his grip after the impact. From the log he was sitting on, Brutis only observed the boy continue to twirl it in a confusing motion…until all of it finally annoyed the former purge trooper enough for him to rise.

The kid twirled the stick around until his eyes caught Brutis approaching.

"The hell are you doing?" Brutis asked.

Petro paid him no mind, continuing to twirl in a confusing combative motion. "Practicing," he huffed, maintaining his breath.

"Practicing what?" he asked. "Ways to get yourself killed? That's no way to fight."

"It's not fighting…really…it's lightsaber forms," Petro explained, now holding the stick in blocking forms. Scoffing, Brutis stepped forward and pushed him over with ease, watching him fall to his rear.

"Might as well put on a dress," Brutis mocked. "Who taught you this shit?"

Petro defiantly rose to his feet. "The greatest Jedi General who ever lived."

"_Jedi General_…" Brutis mocked, beginning to laugh.

Petro stopped, suddenly standing up to him as his emotions rose to a fever pitch. "What do _you_ know about Jedi?!"

"I'll bet his hair is greasier than the Emperor's _cunt_."

"It was not!"

"_Was?_ He's dead?"

"Yes!"

"How?"

"He was killed!"

"Who by?"

Petro swallowed, looking as if he was forced to relieve a painful memory. "An inquisitor! The Second Brother!"

Brutis almost laughed out loud. "This great Jedi General was killed by the Second fucking Brother?"

"He was caught by surprise!"

"Any boy-whore with a laser-sword could beat _five _Second Brothers."

"Xur fought on his own! They laid a trap-."

Brutis raised his massive finger, silencing Petro in an instant. "You mean to tell me that the man who made two of the most lethal, sadistic _harpies_ look like underpaid strippers from Nar Shaddaa…taught you _this?!_"

Petro seethed with the typical frustration of an unstable teenager. "Xur Eon was a hero! He died fighting for the Jedi!"

"He's not dead you little shit," Brutis shut him down, suppressing an urge to smack the kid back on the dirt. "I just told you that."

The boy's eyes widened in realization, and Brutis suppressed an annoyed grumble at the slowness of his piecing together. He could've sworn Jedi were better at perception, even the kids.

"Wh…we gotta go find him!" Petro jumped, stepping forward. "He needs help-," he was smacked onto his rear by Brutis once again, landing in a heap.

"I can guarantee you he doesn't need _your_ help," Brutis spat. "Do you have any idea who's after him? They'll cut you to pieces and strap you to electric chairs just for showing your _face_."

"Xur wouldn't give up!" Petro protested, this time thinking better than to rise. "He'd fight until the last man, he always did!"

"And where has that got him?" Brutis challenged. "Now he runs and hides like a scared whomp rat, just like you."

"I do not!"

"Really? Is that how I found you? Fighting off those purge troopers like some valiant hero?" Brutis laughed in mockery. "No, you were like all the rest of the Jedi, desperate and helpless, begging for them to spare your life."

Petro rose, but Brutis smacked him hard enough to draw blood.

"They're weak! All of them!" he growled. "How many Jedi does the Empire have to kill before you figure it out?"

The young Jedi didn't get up this time, wiping the crimson blood from his face. Instead, he rolled over and sat cross-legged, looking in more control of his emotions. "You have no idea how many of my friends I've seen die."

Brutis tried to shake it off, but he began to feel undeniable pity for him…but no tears had dropped from the boy. He'd seen Jedi cry over much less, so at least the kid seemed to have a backbone.

"So tell me this…why did you help me?" Petro asked.

He knew that damn question was coming, and he had done his best to keep him from asking it. The simple fact of the matter was that Brutis had no idea…it was like some feigned pity for a group of people he'd helped kill or ruin. Since its inception, he had served the Empire, and not even then did he have an honest answer as to why. Brutis never had anything against Jedi, aside from petty jealousies of watching men much scrawnier than he achieve so much more. Most of them were…inspiring almost, and Xur Eon had been the prime example.

Watching him tear to shreds a squad that had been invincible for so many years reminded him that he hadn't joined the Inquisitorious for sport, or his own accord. The screams of that girl had shocked him straight…mindless obedience at the fear that that could be _him_ in that machine. So he'd stayed…fought through her screams until she screamed no more…until she donned that helmet and lead him on the hunt for people he didn't even hate.

If he hated _anything_, it was the sick bastard who had invented that machine, and the spineless coward who used it. In spite of that, he felt an obligation to watch after that girl…because for some reason he felt he owed her that much. And then _she_ started torturing…and he knew it was only a matter of time until he was next.

Until that day…until Xur Eon showed him what the Empire truly was: a cesspool of broken cowards who were better at electrocuting little girls than fighting true champions. Captain George was just the first to realize that, right as Brutis shoved the man's own knife into his throat. When it was all over, and he saw Petro's eyes…they were the same eyes of that frightened girl who he'd let the Empire hurt.

What he had in mind…it was poetic justice of the most beautiful kind.

"Pick up that stick," Brutis flicked his hand, and Petro gave him a dumbfounded look. "I'm not going to teach you how to fight, not like the Jedi,

"I'm going to teach you how to _win_."

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Highlands**

Another night around the fire, _alone_, for Cal Kestis.

A week scouring Dathomir and he still felt no closer to the Tomb of Kujet, the last destination in his journey to unlock Cordova's holocron…a journey that has proven to evolve far beyond what it originally entailed.

Since the disaster that was Zakuul, Cal's mindset had morphed from survival to a gross desire for understanding. Trilla had been so beyond him power-wise that he worried if he ever ran into her again, it would be the last time…even if part of him felt for her after witnessing _everything_ she had gone through. When she unleashed that…_death field_, as Cere called it…it had been the worst feeling he had ever experienced. To have your very soul ripped from your body…it's an experience that can't be described properly with words…and since, he'd made it his mission to understand how it all happened.

Not only that, but how to subsequentially prevent it from happening to _him_.

Cere was good at hiding it, but Cal knew she was struggling with something, and to have seen it all play out before his eyes, he knew it was the Dark Side calling back to her. Part of him took Trilla's initial words to heart, even if he didn't want to.

_How long until she cracks and betrays you too?_

It was all blatant manipulation, but by the _Force_ was she good at it. He'd only had one proper conversation with the inquisitor, but he remembered her _every _word to the letter. The worst part was…_everything_ she had said was true. Cere, whether he liked it or not, was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode…and perhaps it was only a matter of time until broke and sold him out to the Empire, just like she did Trilla.

Cal packed those thoughts away. What was he thinking? This doubt that had plagued him was _crippling_, and he'd be damned if he let that lunatic get into his head…even if Xur had described her as…

_Him._

Damn Greez for being right. Xur Eon, the gold-armored shining hero he looked up to had tucked tail and run from Zakuul, leaving behind a droid that wasn't even programmed to protect him. If anything, it had been programmed to protect the very woman chasing his whereabouts as he sat around his fire. Cal even had the decency to try and save the woman he so painfully and obviously was in love with, only to watch her almost kill both him _and_ Cere in the process.

Trilla wasn't beyond saving, he knew it, but she was certainly beyond _his_ saving. Everything that played out on Zeffo was evidence enough. After she removed that mask, he saw a confident hunter who looked down upon him in condescension, so sure that either he would fall into her grasp, or Cere would do it for her. Even on Zakuul, she chased him down and beat him like he was a youngling with a practice blade, and he would've never stood a chance without HK's sonic blasts.

But Xur…_he_ could do it. When she saw him…all her superior confidence faded in an instant, and all she had was rage and _denial_. He had sensed that within her as soon as she realized he wasn't dead…a spark of relief that was immediately snuffed out by blinding hatred that may very well be _superficial_.

Cal wondered…since he had nothing but time on his hands now…_why_ did Trilla hate Xur? After touching her hilt and hearing the stories Xur had told him, if anything she had always been enamored by him…vying for his attention when he didn't always grant it to her. Even as the Second Sister, she had gone on over and over on how badly she had wanted to kill him, but with her interrogation, Cal never found any reason…

_You are mine._

Those _words_…they were three words that slithered down his spine every time Cal was reminded of them, and he felt the fear that came with them through Trilla. She had been made _afraid_ to love, established that if she ever let it in her heart again…it would mean _death_.

Did she hate Xur…_because_ she still loved him?

Perhaps…but Cal knew it was beyond his power. If Trilla was to be saved, all of it rested on Xur's shoulders…and Xur's _alone_.

Cal had more immediate concerns, anyhow, like watching for the bane back spiders that prowled around his camp. The nightmarish creatures didn't like fire, which was his saving grace, but that hadn't stopped them from lobbing wads of venomous liquid his way. After a few days of warding them off by slicing up some of their counterparts, they had backed off for now, to his relief. He couldn't sense them out there tonight.

_Doo-oop._

"I thought so. Thanks for checking, BD," Cal said.

BD-1 was camped out beside him, waddling around as he scanned the surrounding area. It helped to have such a vigilant droid to scan for the less prominent dangers in the Force. At first the nighttime sounds were unsettling, but Cal was able to adjust quickly, focusing himself each night to drown out the excess noise.

BD shivered and let out an uneasy _whooo_.

"Maybe…but still…there's something familiar about this place…"

_Bo-preep?_

"I don't know…" Cal trailed off, shaking off a feeling. "I feel like…"

"_Feel like what?_"

Cal vaulted to his feet and ignited his blue blade at the sound of an echoing female voice, his eyes locking on a manifesting figure via green energy he had never before witnessed.

"Like we're being _watched_," Cal finished, holding his blade at the ready.

Before him appeared a woman with silver-white skin, her gray tattoos her most prominent feature present on her face, as well as her white hair that hung over one side of her face, the rest tied in a bun behind her head. She was dressed in mostly red…similar drapes of a Jedi, but…_darker_…mystical almost.

"I'd steady that blade if I were you, _Jedi_," she warned with a pointed finger, her hand emanating that green energy.

Cal calmed himself, warding off the initial reaction, choosing to analyze the situation instead of swinging his lightsaber. "You…you must be a nightsister," he recognized to the best of his ability, based off descriptions from Cere.

She was…more _attractive_ than he envisioned, and that realization steadied his hand, extinguishing his blade as he sensed no malintent present.

"Indeed," she confirmed, although showing no signs of backing down. "I have been watching you since you arrived. Why are you here…_Jedi?_"

The way she spat _Jedi _was unsettling to say the least, not to mention the confrontational attitude she had stuck with, even after he extinguished his blade.

"Look…" he began, holstering his hilt with his hands raised. "I'm not here to fight anyone. I'm just looking for something."

"Looking for something to _steal?_" she retorted, maintaining her stance.

"No, of course not," Cal assured. "I'm looking for answers…for a way to…" he then remembered what Cere had told him…how all the nightsisters had been wiped out in a massacre, and yet here one was…meaning she could very well be the only one. "…a way to bring back my people."

She wavered momentarily, and that's when Cal tried to sink the hole. "Maybe we could…work together?"

Her hand remained out in front in a warning pose, crackling with energy. "The last time I saw one of those blades, it was used to bring an end to my people," she stepped forward, reassuming her confrontational stance. "So tell me this, _Jedi_. Why should I believe a word you say?"

There was something she believed about the Jedi that made her this way, Cal knew, and he felt his life relying on his ability to convince this woman that he was not her enemy. Since Bracca, he had been very bad at making friends, especially with most everyone wanting to get a piece of him one way or another, leading to countless fights and battles.

_That's it._

"You can feel the Force…can't you?" he asked, maintaining an easing posture.

The nightsister cocked her head in curiosity.

"Go on. Read my mind," Cal offered, purposefully projecting his thoughts. "I'm not here to hurt you. I didn't come here to loot your planet…I promise."

It took her a moment, but eventually Cal felt her probing his mind. The power she used was unlike anything he had seen, and he could tell as soon as she touched his mind. To use the Force this way…it really showed him how little he truly knew about it.

When he finally felt her presence leave his mind, her arms lowered, losing her defensive stance.

"You speak the truth," she admitted. "That is…not what I expected…from a _Jedi_."

Cal bowed with respect, lowering his hands. "I'm Cal Kestis. Do you have a name?"

She continued to probe him, but she at least did so without her hands raised, prepared for a fight. "You may call me Merrin," she answered. "What are you really doing here Cal Kestis?"

Now with her momentary trust, Cal felt the necessity to show his own, in hopes she could return it back to him. "There's a tomb here, on Dathomir, that was built by an ancient race called the Zeffo. Inside is an object called the Astrium, which opens a vault on a distant planet. Within that vault is a list of Force-sensitive children across the galaxy…but the Empire is after it too."

Merrin looked on in confusion. "What Empire?"

_Well, that explains a lot._

"_The_ Empire," Cal answered. "The one bent on exterminating Force-sensitives so no one can stand against it."

With that, Merrin paused, and she looked as if a stunning realization had reached her. "Then it will come for Dathomir before long…" she said, her voice turning somber and bitter. "…as the war did."

Cal stepped forward, offering condolences, but she slightly stepped away. "Merrin…I don't know what happened to your people, but I'm sorry. All I know is that a Sith Lord was responsible…not the Jedi."

Merrin shook her head, waving off his words. "Don't try to understand my pain, Cal Kestis," she warned. "I do not need your pity."

He said nothing, and he could sense her sorrow building the more they stuck to the subject…until she finally turned away, walking into the darkness.

"I will consider your words," she accepted, before disappearing in a green mist…leaving Cal alone in the night.

"There she goes," Cal huffed, returning to his seat on the ground.

_Boop-doop-pree?_

"I hope so, BD," he answered, shutting his eyes. "I hope so."

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

"_You must not become complacent, Admiral_," Tarkin warned, projected via Admiral Vorchenko's personal holocam in her work quarters. "_While your previous works have done you credit, the Emperor has not forgotten that Xur Eon still lives._"

She tipped her head, maintaining her straightened posture. "I can assure you, Governor, I will remain vigilant, and I _will_ find Eon once again."

Tarkin let his gaze slant downwards. "_Be sure that you do. There are rumors in the higher circles that Admiral Slovis will begin his own search for him, and you must not allow him to succeed. It is a race now, Admiral…and your continued service may rely on your success._"

"I understand."

"_Good_," Tarkin nodded. "_Show no mercy and leave nothing of him left_."

The transmission ended there as Tarkin's head disappeared, and she allowed herself to slouch in her chair. There was certainly anxiety within her, but not so much because of her current debacle. In her hand was something far more important…a data drive that Xur had given to her when he still posed as the Second Brother. While the Second Sister's services had been plenty helpful…as well as Vorchenko's subtle nudges for Trilla Suduri to embrace her own individuality…she never had the chance to open the drive without the inquisitor discovering.

With what she deducted about this Greater Imperium…it could be the key to her ultimate goal: to place Xur Eon at the head of an invincible insurgency that would eventually burn the Empire to the ground.

Locking her door, she inserted the drive…and took her first steps.

* * *

**So yeah…we went everywhere in that chapter, touching bases with everyone just to catch up, but the next series of chapters will be more focused on individual stories. Xur and Trilla are still the forefront of the narrative, so expect plenty of them, but believe me, I understand that Brutis is one of the favorites, so I intend on giving him some more time to shine.**

**And Merrin has finally made it! I plan on giving her a completely different story (her and Cal truthfully), so don't expect the same Dathomir arc from the game.**

**Thanks for all the support thus far. In two months, this story has already reached 5000 views (3000 in the month of January!). For me, that's more than I've ever received in such a short time, and I cannot thank you all enough for sharing this journey with me.**

**Thanks for reading! Next up: the full power of the Dark Side!**


	17. Power Trip

**CHAPTER 13**

Power Trip

"It is such a quiet thing…to fall…but far more terrible is to admit it."

**Krayiss II, 14 BBY**

**Badlands**

"It's a fuckin' Jedi! Light 'er up!"

Blaster bolts surged through the air like a tidal wave as the entire group of scavengers opened fire upon Trilla Suduri, the Emperor's Wrath. Her matte-colored hilt was ignited on both ends, the blades twirling through the air with a brilliant precision as all bolts that converged upon her were deflected away. Advancing towards the group of four, she deftly spun her body and reached out, gripping each of the covered beings of various races in sheer agony as their own life force was ripped from them, their screams only temporary as they all dropped dead before her.

Trilla relished in the energy that flooded her essence, and with no wounds to heal, she converted it to raw power, enhancing her abilities to nearly double her natural affinity. Some scavengers took off and ran, while others grit their teeth in anger, firing with rage-filled screams to avenge their fallen comrades.

"Kill that bitch! Kil-," he was cut off with a wave of her hand, pulling him with a brutal ferocity that fractured his bones in her crushing grip, until she silenced him with her blade through his heart as he rocketed towards her. Zipping through the physical plane, Trilla fazed back into existence in front of another assailant, driving the end of her deactivated hilt into his chest. The force of her attack broke a few ribs as she slammed his back into the ground, whilst spinning her ignited blade over his neck to end his life.

The rest didn't stand a chance.

Leaving behind a trail of bodies as she progressed through the rocky landscape, Trilla allowed the hum of her purple blade to be the only sound left on this forsaken planet…aside from the servos of Rava rolling beside her. It was admittedly…_comedic_ to watch the little ball roll around, especially with how intelligent she was, and _yes_, she was a _she_.

"Your reaction time has improved, Wrath," Rava noted, using a spring mechanism to jump over spiking rocks that Trilla merely stepped over. "Although your deflection was somewhat less than perfect."

Trilla scoffed. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean the smoldering blast that ripped through your abdomen."

She was dumbfounded, stopping her march to look down at her suit…and sure enough there was a residual hole in her clothing. However, there was no wound, which must've meant it happened while she simultaneously healed herself with her Death Field.

"_Oh_…fuck me…" she grumbled, more annoyed that her suit had a gaping hole in it. "I didn't even feel that one."

Rava stopped and angled her optics in line with Trilla's gaze. "Interesting. An untreated wound like that would've killed you in short time. Your tolerance for pain is impressive…for a human."

_As it should be._

Trilla didn't want to dwell on the memories her comment brought forth, and with a turn and flap of her cape, she continued to traverse the landscape, probing the Force for her quarry. From what the Emperor had told her about this assignment, this planet was in the middle of what used to be Sith Space, their ancient birthplace. Krayiss II was a planet that was among their original seat of their empire, but Trilla couldn't see any current value in it, hence why there was no Imperial presence.

What _was_ here however was a relic the Emperor had hidden during the height of the Republic, and rumors enough seemed to draw in scavengers vying for it. Judging by what Trilla had left behind, she suggested that they pack up and leave, one of her subtasks that came along with this mission.

It was like a pinging waypoint in the Force, which made following its path easy enough for her. What it was or why it was important were questions she was sure would be answered when the time was right.

After a few miles of travel, Trilla could hear the object's whispers rise in volume, and sure enough, the stone chest that the Emperor described was there…hidden in plain sight beside an array of pointed stones. Rava rolled forward and activated her scanning array while Trilla approached it, letting her gloved hand run across the top. To the naked eye, blind to the Force, no one would ever think such an object would contain _anything_ at all.

"Such a curious means of deception," Rava noted, ending her scan. "I am not detecting anything within on normal scanning methods…however my carbon dating mechanisms detect something much younger inside this…_rock_."

"Then this is it," Trilla confirmed, placing her hand over the slight engraving in the center of the stone. Focusing her thoughts, she opened herself to her emotions, letting her anger encompass her every connection to the Force. Her upper lip trembled as her hand tightened, and with all her might, she unleashed that rage with a short burst of lightning from her fingertips.

Pain ripped through her arm as she grabbed ahold of her searing hand, grimacing through it until it finally ebbed away, while the top of the stone unlocked, revealing that it was indeed closed via a lid. Shaking off the residual discomfort, Trilla pushed the lid free, letting the stone slide onto the ground, with a _crash_.

Inside was her prize: a pyramid-shaped device that whispered to her very soul as her hand approached it. As she lifted it from its place, she felt the Dark Side of the Force strengthen within her.

"It…it's _incredible_," Trilla smiled, letting her free hand glide over its features.

"That, Wrath, is a wayfinder," Rava answered, drawing her attention. "To where…that remains to be seen."

Trilla chuckled to herself. "Then let's find out, shall we?"

* * *

**Unnamed Shuttle, 14 BBY**

**Sith Space**

_Xur landed the striking mark on Trilla's ribs as she twirled out of control, his strike emitting blinding sparks of light as his blade cascaded through hers. She screamed in agony as she dropped her circular hilt, falling to her knees in defeat. Her hand fell to her fresh wound, and she only looked up to him with fading rage as the reality of his victory set in for the both of them._

_ With a tap of his hilt, he extinguished his blade, letting breaths of calm guide his rising emotions away._

_ Trilla rocked back and forth as she fought off the pain, her other hand supporting her as she struggled to stay upright. "Why…why can't I beat you?!"_

_ Xur sheathed his hilt. "You don't have to Trilla…don't you get it? It's over."_

_ She bared her teeth, her anger present in her expression. "Nothing is ever truly over."_

_ "I'm not going to fight you anymore!" Xur protested, swiping his hand through the air. "Stand up for yourself, dammit! Fight back!"_

_ "And what? Be like you?" she shook her head. "I can't!"_

_ "I don't want you to be like me," he eased, taking a knee to meet her gaze. "You can be better than me…you always were…sometimes even now."_

_ Trilla's harsh expression faded, but he watched her force herself to maintain it, looking away. "It's too late, Xur."_

_ The zabrak felt it in that moment, the precipice of earning her back in his life once again, and he inched forward, grasping her shoulders. "Look at me," he nigh begged, her face shrouded by her hair as she looked away. "Trilla…please…I let you down…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought I could live without you…but I was wrong."_

_ She didn't look back, but he heard a slight whimper, followed by a sniffle._

_ When she did finally turn…the cold set in._

_ "And that…is why you fail," she growled, her voice that of a mechanized demon, before her broken body morphed into the dark terror that was Darth Vader._

_ Xur rose to his feet, his blade ignited. "You…"_

_ "You cannot protect her, Eon," Vader growled, stepping forward as a circle of fire surrounded him. "She is mine, and in turn, you…will be broken."_

_ "Why won't you die?!" Xur screamed, raising his hands to stave off the growing flames that threatened to overwhelm him. _

_ "Because you failed to kill me when you had the chance," Vader retorted, reaching his hand out to intensify the flames. "Because you're too weak to protect her from me."_

_ Xur roared. "I hate you…SKYWALKER!"_

Xur's eyelids ripped themselves open as his nightmare ended, and he found himself in a smaller bed this go around. Immediately he recognized it as a small cabin aboard a spacecraft…but he couldn't remember how he got here.

He didn't care, his hands covered his eyes before he allowed tears to fall again. While he knew these nightmares weren't real, they were progressively getting worse the longer he was training with his mother. Starting off as blissful dreams of he and Trilla together, they were slowly spiraling downwards into nightmares of either she killing him, or he killing her…but this was the first with…_him_.

Xur clenched his fists. He _hated_ him with an intensity that he could never _describe_. Knowing who that masked man really was made it all the worse…and knowing _what_ he had done fueled Xur with enough rage to never need a restock. The mere thought of Anakin Skywalker was _plenty_ to sear his eyes yellow and unlock the Dark Side within him.

_No…no, this isn't right._

Maybe it wasn't, but he was beginning to understand why Trilla had become what she was…and he could imagine her hatred for Cere was very similar to what he currently experienced. If _he_ was beginning to lose his mind, then she had to be on the precipice of sheer and utter madness

_I need to find her._

Picking himself up from the bed and readjusting his robes, he called the Second Brother's hilt to his hand and clipped it to his belt. Exiting the cabin, he found himself in a narrow hallway, and besides the cold giving it away, the working of the engines told him they were traveling. Down the hallway was the cockpit, and sure enough, exactly who he guessed was sitting in the pilot's chair.

"Ah, you're awake," his mother greeted, turning in her chair as the ship barreled through hyperspace.

"Mother," he said, taking the co-pilot's seat as she watched him. "How long was I out this time?"

"36 hours," she answered. "Any dreams?"

Xur grumbled, not wanting to speak about it. "Yes, of course."

"And?"

He huffed, knowing she'd just pester him until he confessed. "This time I beat her, instead of killing her…then Vader showed up…and none of it mattered."

"That was what I was afraid of," she noted. "Your past with Skywalker was bound to catch up to you eventually…and I fear you may not be ready to face him when the time comes."

"Hey, one thing at a time here. We deal with Trilla, _then_ we can start talking about Vader."

"Those confrontations are one in the same, Xur," she warned, turning back towards the viewport. "She belongs to him, no matter _what_ she may call herself now…they _all_ do."

Xur growled to himself, just remembering _everything_ about what he had done to her, and he could feel the man's neck in his hand as he squeezed. He tried imagining his burning and severed body on Mustafar, just as Obi-Wan had described it, but it gave him no satisfaction knowing that he survived that ordeal.

"I'm going to kill him."

Valeria remained emotionless…until a small smile crept up her lip. "Good…then we didn't come here for nothing."

Xur narrowed his eyes. "I was gonna…_get_ to that. Where are we going?"

She reached above and pulled back the hyperspace lever. "We…are going _home_."

When the hyperspace tunnel morphed from lines to dots in space, before them was the brown and red dust ball that Xur was all-too familiar with. "Korriban? Why?"

"If you wish to beat back the darkness within Suduri…then you must learn to control the darkness within _you_."

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Leaving Krayiss II**

"How does this bloody thing work?" Trilla complained, looking at the wayfinder from every angle, only to get nowhere. Rava rolled up beside her as she struggled with it in her pilot's chair, her frustration beginning to get the better of her. "Trilla Suduri, Emperor's Wrath…outsmarted by a fucking trinket."

"I wouldn't be so hard on yourself," Rava eased. "That device's complexity almost rivals my own construction."

Trilla snorted. "_Almost_…then how about you give it a look?"

"Of course," Rava accepted, rolling up to the central console and into a small shaft, plugging herself into the computer as she was raised up, revealing only her head. "Allow me."

Trilla set it down beside her head, albeit slightly wary when Rava took control of the ship's systems via that port, but she had proven an adept pilot with her VI processing. The brunette enjoyed piloting to a degree, but she didn't love it enough to override her common sense, knowing her "droid" was a better option.

"Intriguing…" Rava trailed off as her scan continued. "This device is…almost _alive_."

_That explains the whispers, then._

"Its construction is outdated, which explains why it doesn't directly work with the navi-computer," Rava continued. "Yet I believe I can possibly hardwire myself to it and pilot the ship."

Trilla raised her hand in a halting command. "I'm not so sure. These Sith devices…I've heard they can be tricky."

"Trust me, Wrath. I have no intent on doing this for jest…but its technology simply cannot interact with our current instruments. It requires a translator for its data…and I can be that for you."

She narrowed her eyes. "And when you become possessed and fly us into a black hole? What do you expect me to do then?"

"Don't be _daft_," Rava deadpanned. "I'm almost insulted you believe such a primitive device could do such a thing. Overpower _me?_"

Trilla was more focused on her initial comment. "Did you call me _daft?_"

"Daft is an adjective, not a noun."

"I'm not playing bloody word games with you!"

"Would you prefer I called you a cunt? When angered you tend to use this phrase seventy-five percent of the-."

"Enough!" Trilla shouted, slamming her fist into the console, silencing Rava. She hadn't been _this_ infuriated since…

Since she and Xur were stuck on that planet in the Tion Cluster.

"Would you like to inform your master that you cannot achieve your objective?" she asked. "Or would you rather allow me to risk myself? If anything goes wrong, you can always drive your blade through my head."

Trilla grumbled and looked away, trying to fight off the residual pain in her hand from her impact. She felt an overwhelming urge to do exactly as Rava entailed, ending the droid's continuous insults then and there…but…she _couldn't_. Only a short time had she known this droid, and she could feel a subtle attachment to her. Ever since she had been granted this overly extravagant title, she had been alone, and she never imagined she'd ever miss having someone else around, even if they were just a partner.

She missed Effa, even Blaze…but most of all…she missed…

_No…I…I can't. I hate…I hate that I…_

She hated that she missed them. She hated that it was hard to burn a hole in Rava's head. She hated that Xur Eon was _still_ out there…making her care about _anything_.

_Why won't you die?!_

_ Because you're weak._

Trilla's eyes widened as they focused on the wayfinder, its whispers manifesting inside her head as one, singular voice.

_I am not weak!_

_ You deceive yourself foolish girl. You carry your title like some achievement, but in the end you're nothing but a slave._

This thing was alive…and she could feel it…like opposite poles of a magnet to her hand. A devious yet strained grin spread across her lips, and she swiped the object into her grip.

_I'll show you strength._

"Wrath…what are you-." Rava was cut off as Trilla's hand glowed a bright purple, draining whatever life energy existed within the object…only the downpour of power never ended. Trilla felt herself enhanced exponentially as she continued the attack, relishing in the pain she wreaked upon an unfeeling object.

The onslaught suddenly ended, and Trilla dropped the dead object onto the console, falling back into her chair in euphoric bliss. She felt she could take on any being in the galaxy with this wellspring of power within her. Even the Emperor himself would beg for mercy under her grip of hunger…and the galaxy itself would fall into her grasp. With a swipe of her hand she could move stars and destroy planets…she felt _invincible_.

And yet she wanted _more_.

"Wrath…your metabolic activity has risen exponentially," Rava noted. "And you seem to be in an…intoxicated state."

"Shut up, droid," Trilla spat as her speech began to slur, her head becoming heavier by the minute. "I jus nee…"

Trilla went limp and flopped out of her chair, her body slamming onto the durasteel floor in a manner she could no longer perceive. Her vision faded away, and she felt her own spiritual self transcend beyond her corporeal form, the power she absorbed burning away at the crude matter that encased her essence.

At last…she had achieved _godhood_.

Electrocution zapped her form back into one, and she screamed. Her vision flashed white, and she was back in that chair, screaming endlessly until her throat no longer allowed her to, shocked numb to pain entirely, only to be relieved, healed, and forced to do it all over again.

She was jolted awake, and all that energy funneled back into the wayfinder, leaving her gasping for air and trembling in fear. Hyperventilation seized her lungs as her breaths shivered, barely getting enough air until she exhaled and inhaled again. Trilla's eyes darted around the cockpit and locked on the shock prod that Rava had brandished.

"Remain clam, Wrath," Rava urged. "You were going into cardiac arrest-."

"Get away from me!" Trilla screamed in terror, kicking Rava back with her foot as she scuttered away along the floor, as far away from that shock prod as she could. "Stay away…_please!_"

Rava might as well have been an interrogation droid in Trilla's bulging eyes, and as the VI shook off the attack, she tried rolling forward.

"Wrath, you are in a state of extreme distress. You are not under attack," Rava eased, trying to inch forward, revealing a needle from her compartments. "Just allow me to admini-."

"_No!_" Trilla bellowed, kicking her away again, and then scrambled to her feet, running across her own ship in raw terror, locking herself in her own quarters. Feeling somewhat more secure, Trilla ran to the sink and mirror, ripping off her gloves and proceeding to splash her face lividly with water. Once she got tired of that, her makeup smeared and hair soaked, she heaved over the sink and vomited whatever fluids remained in her body. Her tongue ravaged with distaste and her throat burning, she began to sob profusely.

Trilla fell to her knees as her wails echoed through the ship, her mind returned to the first time she had been relieved of that terrible chair…dropped onto the durasteel grate and dragged someplace else…injected with more drugs and put right back in.

For an eternity she had waited for him to rescue her, but she knew he wasn't coming, and the longer she clung to her love for him, the more it hurt her. All love had ever been for her was pain…endless and _terrible_ pain.

And yet, she still felt it.

She _always_ had.

* * *

**Korriban, 14 BBY**

**Wastes**

"Coming, Mother?" Xur asked as he hit the end of the loading ramp, taking his first steps on the dirt of the planet Korriban. Valeria had remained atop the ramp, looking down upon him with hesitant eyes.

"I can go no further," she replied. "You must walk the surface of this planet alone. There is…nothing for me here."

Xur paused. This was the first time that she had seemed genuinely afraid of something…which didn't bode well for his sake. He'd felt it before they had even landed; this place echoed of death and was the beating heart of the Dark Side itself. Never before had he ever been to a planet that threatened to consume him before he had even set foot on its surface.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked, concerned.

"The only thing you should fear is what you bring along," she warned. "You have spent your entire life surrounded by conduits of the light side of the Force…now it is time for you to face the darkness that has always existed within you…and I cannot be there to help you."

Xur grimaced, looking back towards the present landscape. On both sides there were magnificent tombs that had either long caved in or had themselves vandalized by thousands of years of erosion. Other than that, ruins of buildings that once stood above ground peaked above the dirt like broken bones.

"Do not fear…I will still watch over you," she assured. "You will not be _truly_ alone."

The zabrak could feel it already…something out there was calling to him. Every wind blow was followed by dark whispers or deep howls that rattled his bones, but he clenched his fist and fought through it. Darkness had never been his fear, and it would not begin now.

"I'll be back," Xur tipped his head, and paced away from the ship, probing the landscape around him. It seemed abandoned, but what he felt told a very different story. Distant screams could still be heard within the Force itself, echoing endlessly around him. Doing his best to locate the call, he focused his senses singularly…feeling the history of this terrible place resonate within.

After making a fair bit of progress away from the ship, he came to the first caved-in entrance to an old tomb.

_That is the tomb of Ajunta Pall, the first Dark Lord of the Sith._

Xur wasn't caught off guard by his mother's voice in his head this time around, but it still rattled him enough. "The first? How long ago was that?"

_Many millennia ago. Do not become distracted. This is not your destination._

"Good to hear you sound like a mother every now and then."

_Save your wit as well._

Xur heeded that…he felt he needed to watch for any spectres that may try to sneak up and murder him from behind. "Any idea where I'm headed?"

_I can only see what you see. The Dark Side clouds much of my vision here._

Xur scoffed. "And here I thought you were some Sith Lord in disguise."

_The Dark Side clouds _everyone_, even the Sith themselves. Arrogance, pride, overconfidence…these are all byproducts of the Dark Side of the Force, and they are the Sith's greatest weakness._

"Would've been nice to know that…a little earlier," Xur deadpanned as he stepped over a fallen pillar that hadn't fully succumbed to the elements. "Might've saved us a lot of grief."

_You refer to the Jedi?_

"Yes, I refer to the Jedi."

She chuckled in condescension in his head. _The Jedi could've never prevented their dark fate. Even the bearer of that holocron, Eno Cordova, knew this. They had been outmatched in every aspect, not aware of their darkest threat until it was right on top of them._

That reminded Xur. "You're probably right. Do you still have that Astrium?"

_Yes, of course. No, you cannot have it._

Xur snorted. "Suit yourself, stingy."

He couldn't see it…but in his mind he pictured his mother smiling at his comment, and she eventually giggled somewhat. _You're funny._

The zabrak shrugged as he walked, coming out of the valley of tombs. "So…"

_No. _

"Fine."

The valley condensed into a single passage through stone cliffs that towered above, and Xur deducted that this had to have been carved out by man, not a work of nature. Where it led was a mystery, as it ended abruptly soon enough.

"Dead end, except for this cave entrance," Xur noted, feeling a deep echo within the cavern beside him. "And yet…"

He could feel it. This cave was the place.

_I am sensing a strong amount of energy within this cave. This is where you must walk…however…I am unsure I will be able to maintain our connection as you make your journey._

Xur smirked. "Too much even for you?"

_So it would seem._

"Don't worry so much," he eased. "I can take care of myself."

_That isn't what concerns me. Remember my initial words._

He hadn't forgotten…since she'd only mentioned them a short time ago…but the gravity of them held true. During his Jedi training he had been told similar things, especially when walking through places very strong in the Force. The age old "you find only what you take with you" speech, but of course his mother had her own spin to it. Nevertheless, the premise was the same, and he was ready to face his fears.

Fighting through the growing web of the Dark Side within, he took his first steps.

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Adrift**

"Look at yourself."

Trilla breathed, not even bothering to wipe her tear-stricken face any longer as she remained curled in the fetal position. Her eyes remained trained on the floor to ceiling mirror before her…looking at her own reflection.

"Go away," she whined.

"The great and powerful Emperor's Wrath. How long have you bared this title? Five minutes?"

"_Fuck…off_."

"All this talk of being fearless and invincible…then a little droid shocks you and you're screaming and crying on your floor."

Trilla bared her teeth at the reflection that wasn't following her movements, taunting her in her own body. "You're just a…hallucination."

"Am I? Then why do you continue to permit me to live? You could've killed me _years_ ago, and yet here I am."

Now her reflection was her in her Jedi robes, much less makeup and beautiful black hair that stopped at her shoulders. Trilla shook her head, trying to focus her vision and clear the falsehood away, but it only made the image that much more vivid.

"I think I know why."

Trilla surrendered, letting the side of her face plant itself on the carpet. "Why?"

"Because…all this time…ever since you slipped on that mask…that one part of me within you remained; the only one that matters."

"Oh?" Trilla mocked. "And what's that?"

Her Jedi form picked herself up and leaned up to the mirror. "You still love him."

Trilla's eyes widened, emerald fires blazing yellow at the mere mention of _him_. "I…do…not!" she growled.

"Oh? Defensive, are you?" her reflection taunted. "When faced with the choice to destroy or protect me, you _chose_ to spare my life…and unless you can convince me otherwise…"

Trilla winced and began to crush her own head with her palms, trying to silence the voice from speaking any further. "Shut up!"

"When you lie in bed, do you imagine him screwing that togruta? Do you imagine him growing with _beautiful_ children while you wither away into nothing?"

She covered her ears, rocking on the floor like a rabid animal. "I imagine him _dead_ at my feet!"

"Liar! I know you better than you know _yourself!_"

Trilla clenched her fists with enough force to threaten breaking her own fingers. "I am the Emperor's _Wrath!_ I'm beyond what he could possibly imagine!"

"You're the Emperor's _Slave_, pathetic vermin. A fancy new title can't save you from what you've really become. When Xur Eon is dead, what will you be then? Maybe he'll make you his personal maiden… or perhaps…" her other self giggled. "…he'll make you _bed_ with him."

"No…" Trilla seethed. "He wouldn't waste my power."

"Ha! Stupid, stupid girl! You _belong_ to him. Your power is _his_ power."

Trilla finally vaulted to her feet, confronting the spectre in the mirror. "My power is my own!"

"_You're_ not even your own! Look at you! Shouting at a bloody mirror!" her reflection laughed almost hysterically. "I know your every thought, and the day you tried to kill me, is the day you lost the right to your own individual self."

Trilla's knuckles cracked.

"You're a puppet. Lord Vader's little personal whore."

The Force itself roared as Trilla's fist slammed into the mirror, cracks stretching across its surface in an instant. Her fist remained planted in the dent she created, breathing heavily as the ghost of herself finally faded away. Through those cracks, she saw her face, and that's when she knew her imbalance had fully manifested.

It was time for Xur Eon to die.

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Highlands**

_Wrapped up in them, he felt it…the ecstasy…the passion. No feeling ever surpassed this, and his body felt as if it would burst…melting within the partner beside him._

_ His lips on her neck, her pleasure that came with it. It was so…amazing._

_ He looked up to their face…and saw BD-1's rectangular head._

"Gah!" Cal shrieked in terror as he suddenly awoke to the trills of his droid poking at his head. BD jumped back to avoid the Jedi's errant swats, cocking his head as Cal returned to the physical world.

_What the hell was that?_

Cal rubbed his eyes clear, allowing his eyelids to blink enough for his vision to focus, and then finally turned his attention to his droid companion. "I'm awake BD, I'm awake."

_Do-do-doop?_

"A nightmare? No…not this time," Cal answered, which was a nice change of pace. Most of his dreams ended with him either being eaten alive or an inquisitor bisecting him at his waist, so to experience a vision without as much pain…in fact with _no_ pain…was refreshing.

But…what _was_ that? And who was that woman?

Oh…but whatever it was, it felt _incredible_. The pleasures of the Force paled in comparison to being wrapped up with another woman, his legs locked with hers as they linked together, experiencing a feeling so powerful…

_Oh no._

This was…_attachment_ wasn't it? No, it wasn't the first time Cal looked at a woman and felt his heart beat a little faster, although having to experience puberty as a scrapper certainly had its drawbacks. Jedi were supposed to ignore these feelings, and he had thus far, but he felt all that control spiral away after what happened on Bracca. Sure, when Trilla took off her mask, he was _slightly_ aroused, but that was placated by the fact that she was trying to kill him.

But this nightsister…

_No no no no no, stop it. You're going crazy._

It must be the planet. This place gave him the creeps, and the longer he stayed, the more he felt it corrupting his thoughts. Attachment leads to jealousy, thus, to anger, hate, suffering, the whole motto, and Cal hadn't forgotten it. He'd seen it firsthand at another's expense, someone he looked up to. Before he had judged Xur for his attachment to Trilla, and subsequent seemingly self-destructive urge to win her back, but now he knew how powerful lust could be. The idea of having that woman you admire with you…merely linking hands together…it was _powerful_.

He needed to get his mind off it, as each of his draw-back thoughts spiraled back down that path of attachment. Cal was a Jedi, and he needed to start acting like it.

But the Jedi were gone…

_Stop it._

BD finally became concerned enough to tap him with one of his legs, like a pet pawing its owner when it wanted attention. Cal smirked and patted the droid's head. "Thanks buddy. Guess we better get moving, huh?"

The droid beeped in a deadpan manner.

"Right, right. I know you've been trying to tell me. Sorry."

_Deet-deet._

As Cal packed whatever belongings he had removed from his belt, and BD clambered back aboard him, he set off through the wilds of Dathomir, once again feeling no closer to his destination than he had before. He had maintained GPS tracking so he could return to the _Mantis_ at any time, but he felt the need to keep looking, and to return would be ultimately counterproductive. Sure, it was a sunk cost fallacy, but Cal wasn't in the mood to care about such a thing as of now. There was simply too much at stake now, as the lives of all those children on that list depended on his success.

After what felt like another hour of aimless walking, Cal frustratingly swiped his hand through the air and stopped. "We're walking in circles, BD."

_Deet-deet boop._

"Yeah, I _know_ it's obvious!" Cal snapped. "And yet here we are!"

BD trilled a high-pitch warning.

"What do you mean _incoming?_"

A fierce snarl rattled Cal's spine as he barely rolled away from the pouncing nydak as it barreled towards him. With its miss, the fierce creature dug its massive claws into the ground to slow its skid, turning back to the stunned Jedi brandishing his blue blade.

"What the hell _is_ this thing?!" Cal asked while BD hung on for dear life. The nydak bared its teeth and swiped its powerful arms through the air, lethal claws almost grazing Cal's skin as he ducked underneath. What he didn't account for was the second claw, and those ripped through his calf like a knife through meat. Screaming in pain and collapsing to one knee, Cal raised his blade in a desperate defense, before thinking better of it and pushing the creature away with all his might.

"BD, I need help!" he begged, calling for a stim, only to hear him whine that they were fresh out. "Gah! My leg!"

Blood covered his hand as he touched it, and it was nigh-impossible for him to stand or put on any weight…and the nydak was just rising back on its own legs. Desperately, Cal reached out and slowed its advance as best he could, buying him time to think of something before the creature tore him to shreds. BD tried pushing him along with his small body, but Cal could only crawl away as best he could, and the nydak would surely have him soon enough.

A green light nearly blinded him as the nydak disappeared from view, enveloped in that same energy he had seen before, and when that light faded, the beast was gone. Cal could no longer even sense it in the Force, but in the beast's place was Merrin, her glowing eyes fading back to her brown irises.

With the threat gone, Cal's adrenaline faded, his pain truly became apparent. Blood was pooling under his leg, and BD tried his best to do something, but could only watch with no stims remaining.

"Hold still, Cal Kestis," he heard Merrin insist as he writhed, trying his best to heed her command, but finding it extremely difficult with the intense pain.

"What are you-," Cal began, but was silenced by the sudden disappearance of his suffering…replaced by a soothing sensation where his wound was. "_Oh_…"

Merrin had her hands suspended over his leg as she recited words in a language he could not understand. Slowly, his pain ebbed away, and he felt his leg pull itself back together. Her green magik did its best to heal what it could, but eventually Merrin pulled away. Cal looked down, and was once his exposed, bleeding muscle, was now just scar tissue.

"I am sorry. Since you are not a nightbrother, I did what I could," she apologized. "Your body…fought my efforts to heal it."

Cal shook his head, running his hand over his calf in awe. "Don't apologize…I would be in much worse shape if you hadn't shown up. How'd…how'd you do that?"

Merrin seemed hesitant to answer, and he sensed it was that distrust that she still clung to about the Jedi. "Our magik can achieve unnatural feats, although you were foolish to venture into nydak territory."

"Yeah…don't need to tell me twice," Cal nodded, trying to stand, but found his leg could not support his weight yet.

Merrin simply looked on with a guarded pose. "You must allow it time before you walk again. As I said, your body would not accept my commands."

He accepted that wrinkle, as it was better than bleeding out…and then he dared to ask the next pressing question.

"Why'd you help me?"

Merrin placed her gaze upon him, seemingly probing his thoughts once again. "Your pained screams were repulsive, so I intervened to make them cease."

Cal chuckled, not sure he should, but tried to entice a joking environment. "Ah, well, thanks anyway," he said, only to nervously rub the back of his neck when her gaze did not falter. "Have you…um…thought about our last conversation?" Slight excitement was laced at the back end of his sentence, and he grimaced with embarrassment.

"You mean whether or not to help you?" her brow raised, seemingly unaware of it. "I fail to see why I should."

Cal leaned up, only to feel his leg protest again, returning back to his slouched position. "But the Empire…"

"Hasn't come yet," Merrin answered. "We live in the shadows, Cal Kestis. They will not find us here."

"I told myself that for a long time, Merrin," Cal warned. "I used to scrap starships in the outer rim, away from _everything_, and the Empire was able to pick me out of the crowd."

She scoffed. "Your skills of deception obviously pale in comparison to mine."

"Trust me, whatever you can do, _they_ can do better," he then pointed to his leg. "What you just did, they have someone who can heal that perfectly…erase whole wounds…or do the reverse…and drain the life force right out of you."

Merrin paused, her head slanting downwards in intrigue. "You speak as if you have experienced this."

Cal wasn't sure if he should get into it, but he felt the need to convince her more powerful than ever, and he was running out of time.

"A…_friend_ of mine lost someone he cared about to the Empire. They captured her…and turned her into something terrible, perverting her gifts into weapons, twisting her personality. She's the one who found me on Bracca," he explained, then forced himself to sit up. "If they find you, Merrin, they'll do the same, but I promise you, I'm done letting the Empire hurt people."

The nightsister looked away, and Cal watched her upper lip twitch. "This Empire…are they the same people who massacred my sisters?"

Cal nodded with finality. "The Separatists were controlled by the Sith," he mentioned, calling back to the sporadic battle droid remains he had spotted in his travels through Dathomir. "The Empire is also controlled by the Sith. I don't know who was responsible for killing your people…but I know this…they have the same masters."

Her face went despondent, eyes glazed over in reverie. "I…I was only a child when they attacked. An armored warrior brandishing _that_," she pointed to his hilt. "Descended upon us and slaughtered my sisters. Since…I have lived alone…with the dead."

In a moment of instinct, he reached for her hand, but her gaze made him think otherwise, and he backed down. "Trust me…Merrin. I know what it's like to lose everything. What happened to your people…there is nothing I can say that can heal that…but we don't have to be enemies."

She mulled his words for a moment, and Cal worried that his physical gesture had gone too far. He sensed great turmoil within her, as if she was taking a risk she never expected, but in the end, she looked his way once again, rising to her feet.

"Come then, Cal Kestis. Let us find this Astrium."

* * *

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**I have spoken.**


	18. Legacy of Darkness

**CHAPTER 14**

Legacy of Darkness

"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people."

**Korriban, 14 BBY**

**Cave**

The echoes persisted as Xur paced through the cave, his senses rampant and fingers twitching for his hilt. Aside from the sporadic flying beasts that he found rather easy to dispose of, he was left alone, some critters even scuttering away as he passed. His mother's assessment had certainly been right, as the Dark Side of the Force was nearly blinding here. To feel was like sticking his hand through a thick cloud, unsure as to what lay on the other side.

The zabrak truly did not know what to expect. He had been to Korriban before, but only during an invasion, which silenced the plaguing whispers that infected him now. Darkness thickened…and soon he could barely see his palm before his eyes. Unable to see any longer, he stopped and turned back, only to noticed that the entrance was long gone.

No…the _cave_ was long gone.

"Hey."

Xur jerked his head to the sound, and soon he found himself in an imperial shuttle, his vision augmented by the old HUD of his inquisitor helmet. Touching himself quickly as he realized he was back in the Second Brother's uniform, there was a firm grip on his shoulder.

"What's the matter with you?" the Second Sister asked, her mask projecting her voice.

Xur shook his head. "What?"

She cocked her head in confusion, and then chuckled. "Come on, love. Don't tell me you're getting nervous already."

He was dumbfounded, stuttering over his words as he failed to comprehend how he got here. "Trilla?"

The Second Sister faced him but didn't grace his confusion with a rough shove or violent threat. Instead, she gently let her gloved hand glide up his arm and to his neck, gently squeezing his muscles in a relaxing manner.

"Yes, Xur, it's me," she answered. "Are you sure you're alright?"

He blinked but fought off the instinct to breathe deeply to her touch, everything about what she did brining him pleasure, instead of fear. Relishing in the moment anyhow, he grasped her other hand, and she gipped his back without hesitation.

"Yeah…I'm great, actually," he replied, smiling.

Trilla's hand cradled the side of his neck, the last part of his body she could touch, before letting him go. "Good…we're almost there," she began to pull her hand away, but Xur gripped it tighter in protest.

"Wait…no," he almost begged. "Let me…just a little longer."

He couldn't see her face, but he could tell she was smiling back. "Alright," she accepted, allowing their fingers to lock together as she stood by his side. "Together then."

Xur nodded. "It's all I've ever wanted."

Trilla giggled with pleasure as the shuttle landed, decompression running through the cabin as the loading ramp slowly lowered. Together they walked into the large hangar, a line of stormtroopers on each side forming a pathway for them to follow. Xur smiled as he and Trilla expressed their feelings out in the open, no longer needing to hide in the shadows.

Her other hand grasped his upper arm, pulling herself closer. "I'm so proud of you, my love."

Xur blushed behind his helmet. "For what?"

Trilla grumbled positively. "You _know_…for bringing him in. You were the only one of us who could've done it."

They approached the trapezoid-shaped door at the end of the pathway, and Trilla gestured, prompting it to open. Xur seized…his legs locked in place. On the other side was an interrogation chamber…with Anakin Skywalker placed inside the chair.

Trilla chuckled deviously, which gained a sadistic edge the longer it persisted. "Look at him now. Not so terrifying anymore, is he?"

The poetic justice was too good to be true. All this time he had spent torturing all those Jedi, just to end up in the exact chair he had used. Xur's lips twitched into a smile, feeling the rising urge to put him through it all, just to see him scream…just to see him suffer.

Anakin's eyes were infected with that yellow Sith glow as he stared daggers into the zabrak, his fists clenching.

"You think…" Anakin gasped, audibly exhausted. "You think this somehow makes us even? You're wrong. I'll get out of here, and you'll _all_ suffer."

"Bold words from a man trapped in his own home," Trilla pointed, letting go of Xur's arm. "Inside a week we'll have you crawling on your knees and fetching us caf."

His chest puffed as laughs began to surface, and soon Anakin sneered. "I remember when you were in this chair. You'd scream for hours on end, crying through the pain like a child. You were _weak_…and you snapped like a-."

The closing sound in the Force silenced Anakin as Xur raised his hand, choking the bound vermin before him. "And you're going to _pay_ for _every_ scar you left on her body."

He continued to choke him until his face turned blue, and eventually let go, allowing Anakin to gasp for air.

"Let's start it up," Trilla insisted. "Let's make him _pay_."

The control was right beside him, and Xur felt his hand twitch towards the button. He could imagine it now…watching Anakin's body seize and spasm as he suffered, inflicting every wound he had dared to inflict upon the woman beside him.

Xur's glove glossed over it…but he hesitated.

"What's wrong?" Trilla asked, her arms crossed. "Press it."

He tried, but he couldn't.

"This…this isn't me. This isn't how I do things," Xur shook his head, pulling his hand away.

Trilla stepped forward in a threatening manner. "You mean to tell me that after everything I suffered, you're going to let him get away with it?"

"No…"

She growled, grasping the neck of his clothing tightly. "Then press the _fucking_ button."

It was now that Anakin laughed almost hysterically. "You think she loves _you?!_ Ha! You're just as gullible as you always were. She never cared about what you wanted, it's always been about _her_, and her _alone_."

Xur shook his head. "That's not true…" he trailed off, and then looked into the stoic and threatening gaze of the Second Sister's mask, and as he continued to hesitate, her rage only intensified. "Trilla, we don't have to be like him!"

"We already _are_," Trilla denied. "Now either you press that button, or I'll put _you_ in next."

He was taken aback, stunned by the turn of events. "Trilla…"

"HA!" Anakin shouted. "She's mine! She's _always_ been mine, and I promise, you will _never_ get her back!"

"No, she's stronger than that!" Xur denied, stepping forward, cupping her helmet into his hands. "Come with me, please! Let's leave _all_ of this behind while we…!"

Fire blazed through his abdomen as Trilla impaled him with her crimson blade, and he gasped in stunned shock as his gaze fell to her, and his body limped to the ground. The blazing wound smoked as he covered it with his hand, looking up.

Trilla removed her mask and tossed it aside, and the expression on her face was that of disappointment…_betrayal_.

"It's treason…then," she spat, _then_ laced with another voice he had known all to well. Emperor Palpatine paced from behind her, his potent laugh reverberating through the air.

"_No_…" Xur gasped, and then found himself falling through a trap door, his screams echoing through the shaft.

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Highlands**

_"Oh, Jedi…you're so baaaaad."_

_ Cal pulled her close as she lifted her leg, letting what lay in between her hips rub up against him. With a madness to him, he grasped ahold of their knee and kissed their neck, relishing in the moans of pleasure that followed._

_ "I know," he said._

_ She chuckled. "But tell me this, Jedi…do all of you moan in your sleep…or just you?"_

_ "What?"_

"Cal."

His eyes flashed open again, but this time he was less violent in his awakening…mostly because this time he hadn't witnessed BD-1's head atop the woman he had dreamed with. Still, the sudden end of such a pleasurable moment was less than ideal.

"What?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes, unsure as to who called him.

"You did not answer my question."

Cal's green eyes focused and eventually made out the form of Merrin, standing above him with her arms crossed, while he rolled over to prop himself up. "What question?"

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "For a Jedi, your senses are quite sub-par."

"Ouch," Cal winced. "Jedi aren't immune to the issues of waking up."

The nightsister mulled his answer with the swaying of her head, her white bangs following her movements. "Fair enough. I asked if Jedi usually moan in their sleep, or if it was just something you do."

_Moan in my…what?_

Cal slicked back his red hair as he finally rose to his feet, trying to reassert himself. "I don't know what you mean."

BD-1 waddled over, beeping once or twice…saying that he had an audio recording. Knowing that Merrin couldn't understand the droid, Cal tried to play it off.

"No, BD, we're supposed to _support_ each other, remember?" he urged, hinting at 'bro code' so to speak. Whether or not the droid cared about such a thing was a mystery, but he tried, nonetheless.

To his dismay, the droid situated itself, emulating the discrete sounds Cal made in his sleep. Flushing with embarrassment, Cal fought through the sound of his own voice with grit teeth, until BD finally relieved him of that burden.

Merrin giggled to herself. "I wish I had dreams as potent as yours."

Cal huffed, shaking his head. "Thanks a lot BD. You trying to impress the new girl or something?"

BD compacted himself and sprung upwards.

_Deet-deet beep boop._

Cal revolted in disgust. "Why you little-."

Merrin crossed her arms in interest. "What did he say?"

While Cal wanted to take the little droid and strap on a restraining bolt just for a moment, he eventually caught himself before he reacted emotionally. This feelings crap was starting to become too overwhelming.

"Nothing important," he answered, finding it hard to look her in the eye, even with his emotions under better control. "We should get moving."

Merrin grasped his shoulder roughly before he set off down the path that led to an overgrown entrance to a fallen ruin, taken over by the freakish-looking plants that this planet adopted.

"Unless you wish to be overrun by bane back spiders, you will allow me to take the lead, Cal Kestis," she warned.

Cal's already emotional imbalance steered him to react rather harshly. "Take the lead? You've spent our entire journey teleporting from place to place, leaving every time we run into trouble. I think BD and I can handle ourselves."

Merrin had her hands on her hips. "Is that what you think? If I had never shown up that day, you would be long dead, _Jedi_."

_Yeah, you would. Nice going, Cal._

He grimaced as he realized he had spoken out of place. "You're right," he admitted. "Sorry Merrin, I'm just…"

The nightsister cocked her head, leaning in for his answer. "What? Ever since I brought up your sleeping habits, you've become more nervous. It is strange. I've never experienced anyone become so guarded before."

"Well, your question was…" he trailed off, unsure how to explain it without going in depth. "…kind of _personal_."

Her eyes narrowed. "_Personal?_ I am…unaware of your meaning."

_Oh boy._

"You've never…had a conversation with someone else about their…tendencies?" Cal asked, puzzled, more than anything. When she still didn't seem to register his answer, he used an example. "Like…if you and I were talking, and I suddenly asked you about your dead sisters."

Her teeth grit and eyes glowed green. "_You'd better_…"

"See?" Cal pointed, shaking off her dual voice as he subtly backed away. "_That's_ what I mean."

Merrin blinked a few times, and like a slow protocol droid, what he said seemed to translate within, allowing her eyes to cease their glow. "I see…I'm…sorry, Cal Kestis. I did not mean to ask you something…_personal_."

Her sincerity was there, unexpectedly. From their short time together, Merrin had come off as somewhat harsh and slow to trust, but he was seeing her waver ever further as each day passed. She reminded him of himself, on Bracca, unable to trust anyone after his own soldiers had tried to kill him.

They were more similar than he initially realized.

Cal reached up and patted her shoulder, to which her head jerked. "It's alright, Merrin," he assured, letting his hand fall back to his side. "No harm done."

She paused again, looking as if she was struggling to process what was happening, before clearing her throat. "Right…this way, Cal Kestis," she pointed, this time walking in front instead of teleporting away.

He felt an urge to ease their relationship even further as BD-1 leapt up on his back, kicking dirt over their fire to snuff it out. "You know, you can just call me Cal. You don't have to use my full name."

Merrin shrugged. "I feel like it is disrespect not to."

Cal snorted, catching up to match her pace. "Trust me, it doesn't hurt my feelings."

"If you insist, _Cal_," she said, as if trying to speak a new word. "This tomb you search for is not far."

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Adrift**

Trilla had no idea how long she'd stared at the holomap, or how long it had been since her ship last _moved_. She'd spent most of it either crying, slamming her fist into something, or drinking _profusely_. The Emperor had truly spared no expense in her ship's deployment, so the liquor cabinet was plenty full.

It's almost as if he knew she'd tend to drink, even as a Jedi. Through her intoxication were spouts of shouting at Rava, talking to herself, or repeating over and over that she didn't love anyone anymore. Her Jedi self continued to insist that she was in a perpetual state of denial, using titles to justify her current 'superficial' role in the galaxy.

And that the Empire had abandoned her.

_Abandoned me…? The Empire only casts aside what is useless. I am the most useful asset they have._

Her eyes kept probing holographic planets, trying to find some way to extrapolate Xur's travels through the galaxy. She'd called in every bit on information she had, beginning all the way back to nearly four years ago, when she had first started searching for him. As the Second Sister, all she could deduct was that he had found a way to ping his signal in multiple places at once…but the Empire had never been able to isolate and rectify this glitch. It was a frustrating endless trail of dead ends…until of course…

_Until the Admiral found him._

It didn't surprise Trilla that Vorchenko could've overrode and saw past his methods of deception. She had proven quite adept at covering her bases, but _that_ was what Trilla had been concerned about from the dawn of their relationship. There were only a sporadic few that knew how close she and Xur had been during the war, and they were all dead by now…all but _one_.

But she had no proof, just like in the elevator, and she could not act on this without a plan. The convenience of the events was just too great to be coincidental. While Xur was certainly devious enough to pull off what he had, Trilla found it impossible that he could've scrounged up the resources to complete his transformation.

Besides all that, how did he possibly hide his Force signature for that long? No matter how powerful in the Force he was, Trilla would've noticed he was hiding something, especially the one night he and she had shared a drink with the others.

The night he had killed an inquisitor for laying his hands on her.

_How did I not see it?_

Every time she looked back to their time working together, it seemed so painfully obvious that he was an imposter; the way he cared for his troops…the way he cared for _her_. At the time she had chalked it up to blatant lust, and in her arrogance, she felt she could exploit that to secure his loyalty under her…but she never knew that he had been the puppeteer all along. On Bracca, where he was subtly able to get a message to Cal Kestis, and in turn knock him out of her reach…his blatant defiance against everything she had been taught as the Second Sister…she was almost impressed, just as the Grand Inquisitor had been.

"And since then you've lost your way."

Trilla grimaced, finally shutting her eyes at the sound of her own voice. "I'd rather not do this now."

"The feeling is mutual."

When she looked across the holotable, she was surprised to see herself dressed in her inquisitor uniform, instead of her Jedi robes. In annoyance, she deactivated the holotable and turned away, pacing back to her quarters. "I'm done letting you plague my mind."

"So sure, are you?" her falsehood called, and she stopped, against her better judgment. "When given the opportunity to evolve _beyond_ me, you squandered it, allowing the thought of some meaningless Jedi to control you."

She could hear her boots walking across the floor, and Trilla felt her hand twitch towards her lightsaber. "You're not even _real_," she seethed.

"I am more real than even you. Tell me: what happened to the ruthless hunter? Why have you allowed this to distract you from your obligation to bring in the Jedi Padawan?"

Trilla whirled around, facing her own spectre. "That Jedi Padawan is _meaningless_ against the likes of Xur Eon. I vowed to kill that man the day I became you, and now it is the only key to freeing me from this cage."

"_Cage_," the Second Sister spat. "Those are his words influencing you, even now. You still think he'll come to free us, don't you?"

"There is no _us_," Trilla growled. "There is only _me_."

"You lost the right to _me_ long ago," her reflection sneered. "There will _always_ be us, because in the end, you can't kill me, just like you can't kill the part of you that still loves him."

She felt her hands seize, and soon Trilla was once again trying to crush her own skull, silencing the whispers of her own consciousness. "I do not _love him!_ I am going to kill him!"

"You _can't_," another one of her voices echoed in her mind, and to her right was now standing her Jedi portrayal. "You don't want to."

"Yes you can!" the Second Sister denied. "Kill him! Kill her!"

"You still love him. You know it in your heart."

"He betrayed us, and he deserves to die!"

"He loves you back. You've seen it. You can't deny it."

"He loves that togruta more than he loves _us_. He's probably bedding with her right now, while we remain here and allow him to continue breathing."

Trilla fell to her knees trying to silence them both, drool pouring from her mouth as her teeth grit.

"He's always been there for you."

"He abandoned us."

_For what it's worth, it was good to be with you again._

She could do nothing to make them stop, and eventually she had accepted this reality, falling back into a curled pose on the floor, letting tears soak her face.

* * *

**Korriban, 14 BBY**

**Cave**

Xur landed in a heap, plenty hard enough to break bones, but to his luck, he was completely unharmed. The vision he had just experienced…never before had he seen a falsehood so vivid, and he had nearly caught himself from believing it was real.

With Trilla's hand in his…the pet names she called him…sure, they were small, but to him they were precious.

He wanted her back. He wanted her back more than anything in the galaxy, but if what he had seen told him anything, it was that he would have to _earn_ her back. There were so many strings attached to her now, and it would take much for him to sever them all. Part of him wanted to cry again, just as he had nearly every night his nightmares dissipated, but now was not the time for him to break down, not in a place such as this.

The zabrak picked himself up and pressed on through the darkness, his vision clouded once again, but his resolve kept him moving. Curling up and crying about Trilla's current state wouldn't bring her back, and he could feel the importance of his current journey to that goal.

As he walked, the darkness illuminated into a tomb of stone bricks, until he came into an open area…with his mother waiting there for him.

"You should be commended for making it this far," she greeted, turning to face him, looking proud.

"Mother," Xur greeted, not expecting to see her. "What are you doing here?"

She stepped forward, her hands falling behind her back. "You were given a chance to act on your darkest impulses, and you refused. That was a falsehood, and now you must face reality."

"Reality?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"It is natural to be confused," she eased, her hands pressing downwards. "The others will help you understand."

_Others?_

Behind him appeared Cal Kestis, his blue blade drawn as he jumped in between Xur and his mother, as if to protect him.

"Stay away from her! She's a Sith Lord!" Cal warned.

Xur grabbed ahold of his shoulder quickly, pulling him back. "Woah, hey kid! That's my mother you're pointing that saber at!"

Valeria growled. "Foolish boy. I've had enough of your meaningless existence," she threatened, drawing her own red blade.

"Hey, hey both of you!" Xur jumped in between. "Stop!"

"This boy is holding you back, Xur," she hissed. "Have you learned nothing?"

"She's a Sith!" Cal plead, sincerity in his eyes. "Can't you see that? She needs to be stopped!"

"She's my _mother_," Xur pointed sternly. "And you won't lay a finger on her…in fact _neither_ of you will lay a finger on _anyone!_"

"General!" a familiar voice called, and soon an entire squad of 502nd troopers rushed in, all pointing their weapons at Valeria. Raven lead the charge, both his DC-17 pistols ready. "We came as fast as we could. We'll execute the Sith on your command."

"So…the boy Jedi and your legions have levied themselves against me, will you stand for this?" Valeria asked, her attention on him.

"No!" Xur shook his head frivolously. "Everyone! Stand down, now!"

"We can't, General!" Raven insisted. "This is our only chance! We've got to stop her!"

Cal made no movements to back down, and it was at that point that he felt the shift in the Force. Raven was no liar, and over the years he had served with the clone captain, he had been known to never be wrong when it came to his sense for danger. The red-haired Jedi was no different, as he would only attack if he felt there was a threat. He was a Jedi in that sense.

He faced his mother in that moment. "Is it true? _Are_ you a Sith?"

"I have told you everything," she promised. "But know that I did once call myself Darth Hydra, but only out of necessity…to keep his eyes on _me_, and not _you_."

Xur could feel the truth in her words, and his love for her did not waver…but he couldn't bring himself to fight his own men.

"I will not stand against you, mother…but I will not stop them from attacking either," he answered, accepting his inability to act.

Her eyes blazed with rage. "You will do _nothing?_ To do nothing is the equivalent of _death_, my son, and _apathy_ will be the death of you for all time."

"Apathy is death," Cal echoed.

"Apathy is death," all his men followed.

"Apathy is _death_," Valeria spat, and reached out, unleashing a torrent of lightning upon him that he stopped with outstretched hands. While it protected him, it arched and spread, electrifying every living being in the room until they laid dead on the floor, Cal's body spasming out at his feet. Enraged, Xur pushed back, redirecting the lightning back at his mother until its power enveloped her, his own power intensifying the attack until she could no longer persist.

She dropped to the ground, her body sizzling and lifeless, and Xur's mouth gaped open once he realized what had happened.

"Mother…" he called, and received no response, rushing to her side. Looking down upon her as he fell to his knees, all he saw were a pair of dead eyes…and a cold, empty body. "No, no, no!" he screamed, cradling her in his arms as tears poured from his eyes. "I'm sorry…I lost control…I'm so sorry…"

All that training with her, and he had failed when she needed him most. It was such a cruel fate…to witness the woman he loved most killed by his own power.

His head fell to her breast as his tears soaked her robes. "I…I failed you. You warned me…and I _failed_ you."

"Yes…you _did_."

Xur's lips twitched as his sadness manifested into anger, dropping his mother's limp body and vaulting to his feet, spinning on his heel with his blade ignited. Trilla stood there, dressed in black and purple, and a silver insignia of the Galactic Empire placed on her chest. The sneer across her face was the same one he remembered since he saw her last.

"Will you _fuck off!_" Xur growled.

Trilla laughed with a sadistic hysteria that only deepened his hatred. "Your mother was weak! I discovered her secret and turned her in," she revealed. "They put her in that chair, and she _screamed_, begging for me to end her suffering."

Xur's vision turned red. "_You…_"

"_Yes_," Trilla arched her back forward, her blade igniting. "_I_ tortured her. Not because we needed any information, not for any _reason_, but because I knew it would hurt _you!_ She cracked!"

The zabrak shut his eyes, trying to force it down, but there was no hiding from this reality.

"And now, her weakness has not only cost her life…but will now cost your own," she threatened, her blade held at the ready.

He snapped.

With an outreached hand, Trilla was suspended in the air, grasping for her throat as she dropped her hilt. In a fit of instinctual rage, he pulled her towards him and closed his fist, snapping her neck and driving his blade through her heart. Trilla's body flopped onto the floor, but despite her injuries, she still breathed, her dying eyes locked onto him from her contorted state.

"Congratulations…" she heaved. "You've _won_."

Trilla died in that moment, and before he could process what had happened, the environment changed, and as he looked up from Trilla's limp form…he saw a pathway to a throne…_littered _with bodies. When he looked back down for her, her body was gone, as well as those left behind in the previous room.

Shaking as his rage dissipated, Xur looked down in horror at the familiar bodies he passed. Kaidan, his chest a gaping hole. Effa, her hair scorched and eyes black. Raven, Mars and Lockdown, their bodies and armor blown to pieces. Blaze, his eyes lifeless. Brutis and Petro, both electrocuted to death. Cere, her body aged and drained of all color. Cal, his head severed, with BD-1 broken to pieces beside him.

Xur approached the throne, and the next body was the sparking remains of Darth Vader, the burned and battered face of Anakin Skywalker revealed through his shattered mask. On the other side…was Emperor Palpatine, his fingers still sparking as the last remnants of his life faded away.

All that pain of seeing those bodies…gave way to _joy_. He found himself smiling…and then subtle laughter followed at the sight of both Sith Lords dead at his feet. He'd…he'd _won_.

Someone coughed.

"Xur…_please_…help me…" he heard them beg, and to the side of the throne, he saw Trilla laid out on the floor, reaching for him.

"Trilla!" he yelled, rushing to her and propping her head up for support. "It's okay, it's okay! I've got you."

She coughed again, her face in visible pain. His eyes traced her body for any sign of injury…but he saw none. Trilla was just…_dying_.

"I thought I could…be strong like you…" she wheezed. "But then Cere betrayed me…"

"You _are_ strong," Xur insisted, grasping her hand. "Your passion kept you forward."

"I thought my strength would give me power," she continued, on the verge of tears. "In hopes that victory would finally break these chains that have held me."

"But you did," he continued, pointing to Vader and Palpatine. "We won! Your chains are broken!"

A tear finally rolled down her face, and she weakly reached up, caressing his with what little strength she had left, while he could only watch in horror as she faded.

"And now…_we_ are broken…"

Her arm fell limp as she died in his arms, her eyes staring aimlessly above. Xur shook her body, trying to deny what had played out before him. "Trilla…please! We've won! Don't go now…not when we're…" he sobbed. "Not when we're this close!"

There was nothing left now.

In victory, _he_ had been broken, and there was nothing left but despair.

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Tomb of Kujet**

As Cal walked through the majestic archway of the final Zeffo tomb on his list, he could feel the flickering light within him waver, clouding itself in the fog of darkness. Just walking on its grounds was like wading through a mob of tendrils, all vying to drag him under. He resisted, for now.

Merrin was just behind him, her pace slow and guarded, her eyes dancing over the fading stone structure. Cal could sense her fear rise, even if it was only for a moment until she hid it from view. "We…we shouldn't be here," Merrin warned, the shaking obvious in her voice. "This place is _cursed_."

He sighed, finally getting a grip over the rising darkness. "I have to, Merrin. Lives are at stake."

"Whose lives?" she asked, remaining at the entrance while Cal slowly pressed forward.

"Innocents," he answered. "Force sensitive children that will be hunted down by the Empire if I don't succeed. They'll all be exterminated."

Merrin paused, and when Cal looked back, her head drooped forward, thoughts distant and elsewhere, reminiscent of when he would speak to Cere about her own past. The nightsister sighed. "As we were…"

Empathetic, Cal reached out from where he stood, offering his hand to her. "I couldn't have made it this far without you. I trusted you to get me here…now I'm asking you to trust me."

She hesitated, her eyes locking on to his fingers with reservation, but eventually she stepped forward, reaching out. When her hand latched to his, there was an undeniable level of excitement that was aroused within him. The Force intertwined with them both, and even he felt a sense of joy rise with her. To have been alone so long, and now to have someone at her side…it must've been like unlocking one of the five senses again.

Merrin's eyes paced away in slight embarrassment. "I must admit, Cal. You are not what I expected…from a Jedi," she said, with no spite left in the last word. "It had been easy for me to believe that they had been the ones to exterminate my people…but after seeing you, and how you act…I may have been wrong."

Cal smiled bashfully, admittedly unsure as how to respond. For a woman of such…_physique_ to compliment him was overwhelming. "_Ah_…th-thanks…Merrin. You know, you're not so bad yourself…" he trailed off, trying to find the words but only babbled like an idiot. "…for a…you know…"

Merrin smirked, raising her other hand for him to stop. "Just…quit while you're ahead, Cal."

He cleared his throat, heeding her advice. "Right…sorry. So uh…why don't we…" his eyes expanded for a moment as a dark presence in the Force manifested, and he saw a similar reaction in Merrin's expression.

"Did you feel that?" he asked her.

She looked back towards the entrance, pulling her hand away. "Dathomir has another visitor," she noted, and then teleported from view, leaving Cal alone.

"There she goes again," he rubbed his neck.

_Deet-beep._

"Yeah, let's check it out," Cal agreed, jogging out of the tomb and back to the edge of the broken bridge. Looking out, he could not see anyone, just the empty pathway that they had traversed from one hilltop to the tomb entrance. Admittedly his vision was slightly skewed from here, despite the height, but the feeling was still present.

"_Cal, come in_," Cere chimed into his earpiece.

"Cere," Cal acknowledged. "What's going on?"

"_The Empire is here, but only in small numbers. It might just be a patrol,_" she relayed. "_But something in the Force tells me there's more to it._"

Cal nodded. "Something doesn't feel right…like a feeling at the pit of my…" he paused, recognizing that same feeling from twice before.

"_Come again, Cal?_" she asked.

It was then that Merrin reappeared. "What have you brought to my world?" she growled; anger clearly present on her face.

"_Who is that?_"

Cal shook his head. "Cere, I'll get back to you," he replied, cutting the transmission while Merrin's expression only worsened. "Merrin, what are you talking about?"

Her teeth were almost borne. "Black and red armored alien carrying a lightsaber, as well as white-armored men. They're on the hill base."

"An _inquisitor_," Cal's eyes narrowed, while guilt followed. "It's the Empire, Merrin. They've come for me."

She shook her head, and he could sense turmoil finding its way within her again. "I should've never let you stay…" she huffed. "You must leave here at once!"

"If I leave, Merrin, they'll still be here, and if they see you, they'll hunt you down too!"

"_Leave!_" her eyes glowed green, and voice doubled over.

Cal had no idea why it was so difficult for him to do as she asked. Part of him thought it was the Astrium, but there was another emotional level to his desire. His attachment to this place was strong, even after only a short time spent here.

No. It wasn't the planet he didn't want to leave…it was _her_.

He stepped forward, and she readied her fist, but he didn't back down. "Merrin, let me help you, _please_. Let me take care of the inquisitor."

She hesitated for a moment, but she didn't lower her fist. "Don't make me…" she seethed, and Cal could hear the struggle in her voice.

"You've been waiting to avenge your sisters, Merrin," he reminded her. "Those people, they're here. Now is not the time to hide. Now is the time to _fight_."

The nightsister considered his words, and through pained grunts of her fighting off her own rage, she lowered her fist, and her magik dissipated. "Your persistence has been noted, Cal, and you speak the truth…" she admitted, crossing her arms in slight embarrassment. "Go, then."

Cal tipped his head, falling into focus. "Thank you," he said, turning to reactivate his comm. "Cere, we're going to fight them off."

"_Who's we?_" she asked.

He smirked to himself as he jumped from the ledge and landed below, while the sound of Merrin fading into her spectre form persisted behind.

"An unexpected ally."

* * *

**Korriban, 14 BBY**

**Unnamed Shuttle**

Xur stumbled up the loading ramp, his emotions bottled up as he finally had reached the ship he and his mother had flown in on. Those steps were tremendous efforts, and once he reached the top, he collapsed in a heap. Exhaustion, physical and emotional, had finally consumed him.

Footsteps rushed across the floor, and he was far too spent to sense who it was. "Xur!" his mother called, rolling him over, genuine concern in her voice. "What happened? I couldn't sense you."

His eyes fluttered open, barely making out his mother's face in his vision. Reaching out groggily, he could only muster a few words. "Are…you…_real?_" he asked.

"Yes," she soothed, her voice understanding as she gently picked him up from the floor. "Yes, I'm real, I promise."

He fell limp in her grip, and all he could make out was being laid down on a bed, perhaps the same he had arrived in. His mind was spinning, processing all the multiple realities he had just experienced, unsure which was real, and which were false. It was truly at the point in which he could not decipher one from the other.

Was _this_ even reality?

Once his mother set him down, he reached out. "Don't go…please."

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered into his ear, gripping his hand tightly, in which he took into a death grip.

"Tell me something only you would know about me," he said, staving off hyperventilation as relaxing chemicals spread through his body, ignited by his chance to finally lie down.

Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand, and he heard a slight giggle in amusement. "When you were an infant, you used to always reach for my hair when I held you. It was adorable."

Somehow, part of him could remember that. It was black hair he always liked…like his mother…

Xur sniffled. "Trilla has black hair…"

Now, he could sense his mother becoming impatient. "Xur…you need to focus. Tell me what you saw, and I can help you sort it."

The zabrak tried…but it was so much at once. All he could remember were distinct images…the vivid ones. "Have you ever had to watch the person you love most…die…over and over and over and over again?"

Valeria sighed.

"Because that's my reality," Xur answered. "Everyone I ever dare to care about ends up dead."

"That's life, Xur," she answered. "People live, and in time, they die. No one lives forever."

His head rolled to the side, and he finally felt the last vision come into focus. "I won," he said. "Victory…I'd done it."

She nodded. "And?"

"And…I'd killed _everyone_," he answered, looking at his own free hand. "Palpatine…Vader…they were dead at my feet…but I killed you. I killed Cal…I killed Cere, and I killed Trilla…" he said, his eyes watering, already bloodshot red. "Snapped her neck, and drove my blade through her heart."

She continued to listen.

"It's my fault. All of it," he sobbed. "If only I'd been stronger. I should've been there for her. I could've prevented all of this!"

Now his mother was frustrated, and it was expelled through a growl in annoyance. "You still have your mind in the past! It's _over!_" she insisted passionately. "There was nothing you could've done. Vader came after her personally, and if you were there, he would've had you as well."

Xur seethed. "Like _hell…_"

"He _would_," she shut him down. "But now…now you have grown. Through what you've learned, you may just stand a chance against him. Korriban has shown you the price of absolute victory, and now it is up to you whether or not to act upon it.

"The past is _through_, so now you must accept it, and move on."

He mulled her words as his senses slowly reconvened. There was truth in them, but the right thing to do was just on the tip of it…something she may not approve, but if he was to finally let the past die, then he had to face it.

"Then I'll find her," he said, facing her with focused vision. "We'll face each other, one to another. If she dies, then so does my past. If I die, then I wasn't worthy of it anyhow."

Valeria slowly nodded. "Yes…you must confront her for the last time. Only then will you be free of your burden, and perhaps your nightmares."

Xur inhaled deeply, letting the air seep from his nose in a calming fashion. "So it must be."

His mother rose to her feet, releasing his hand. "Better start your hunt."

Xur shook his head, revealing his transmitter. "Oh no. This fight is one holocall away."

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Adrift**

"Wrath."

Trilla didn't bother to look up, sprawled out on her floor as she was finally relieved of the voices within her head. This time, it was Rava who called to her…which was at least a change in pace to spectres of her own personality.

"Admiral Vorchenko has a message for you," Rava relayed.

The Emperor's Wrath, in all her sullied glory, picked herself up slowly, fighting the urge to vomit as her body readjusted to the change in situation. "Play it."

She could barely make out the hologram from her sitting position as Rava projected it before her, but she knew enough for it to be the Admiral. "Wrath…I have news that I only wish to share with you," she said. "Vensori Sector, Katarr system. The dead planet of Katarr."

A planet she had never heard of wasn't much good to her, and she almost instructed Rava to end transmission…until she began to speak another language. "_Xur Iatoke inex nouki Kuturr_."

Trilla's slow mind sifted through the words, and immediately she probed the array of languages she could speak fluently…which were many.

"That's…Echani," she recognized by the various syllables, her eyes closed as she rubbed her forehead. "Xur Eon is…" her eyes bulged wide, and soon her focus was second to none. The transmission ended, and Trilla was up on her feet, activating the holomap and already charting a course.

"It appears the time has come, Wrath," Rava said.

"Yes," Trilla nodded, executing the plot and jogging to her pilot's chair. "His time _has_ come."

Xur Eon was on Katarr.

* * *

**Y'all know what happens next. See you then.**


	19. Heroes No More

**CHAPTER 15**

Heroes No More

"You either die a hero – or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

**Katarr, 14 BBY**

**Dead City Wastes**

Trilla descended the loading ramp of the _Fury_ for the first time in an increment she had no knowledge of. Despite what had transpired during her bout of madness, she had cleaned herself up, knowing that projecting dominance could mean the difference between defeat and victory in a duel. Her stride was composed, nonchalant, but also with structured purpose in each step she took.

All of that faded when her boots hit the ground.

This world was _dead_…perhaps even _worse _than dead. Her hand twitched towards a wounded heart at its core, but she could not even feel the Force surrounding it. Even the greenery surrounding her had no connections to each other, all of them damaged by an incomprehensible menace. Not even a breeze blew across her face, leaving nothing but a stark silence across the world.

Something horrible had happened here. She felt sickened just walking its surface, as if whatever had happened was _ongoing_, attempting to sever her connection to the Force as well.

But she pressed on. Her ultimate quarry was here…she could _feel_ him among the shattered remains of this dead world, but as to why he would choose this place was beyond her immediate knowledge. How anyone could survive here was an excellent question for another time.

What she did know: her imbalanced ended here…_today_, once and for all. With Eon dead, she would never again question herself, and she would finally be able to become the Emperor's Wrath she was always meant to be.

"Rava, stay with the ship," she ordered.

The VI stopped her roll per Trilla's command, just as she hit the ground. "As you wish, Trilla Suduri."

Trilla snorted. "What? No _Wrath?_"

"No," Rava shook her domed head. "I believe this may be your greatest test thus far, and you will not emerge the same woman you are now."

Trilla's eyes paced away, locking on the setting sun at the horizon…the only visible body that projected the Force back to her. "That much is certain."

Rava's head angled towards the ground in a bowing motion. "Good luck, and may the Force be with you."

Trilla watched Rava roll back up the ramp, processing those words she had not heard in a very long time. In her trance, she spotted her Jedi avatar standing behind the ramp, her arms crossed, before disappearing behind it, out of view. Grimacing and smacking the side of her head, Trilla turned on her heel and set off down the only path she could determine.

What lay ahead was a collection of city ruins that had been consumed by vines and plants, some buildings towering many stories until their tops gave way to destruction. The architecture was very classical, similar to what she had seen in the city of Theed on Naboo, minus the over-extravagance of the lake-centered city.

Walking the empty streets was slightly unsettling, especially with the all-consuming silence that surrounded her, and the roaring of the engines had left her ears ringing against the sudden change in volume. Occasionally, there would be a distant sound of whining metal…but that was all. There were no animals to be found…not even _insects_.

Every living, breathing thing was gone.

"What's your game, Eon?" she whispered to herself. "Why come here?"

"He's trying to make _you_ the prey," the Second Sister answered for her, keeping pace at her side.

Trilla ignored the figment of her imagination and picked up the pace, trying to outrun herself, only to find that her reflection followed her exact movements. "You must break them before you engage them," Second Sister recited. "Don't you remember those words? He's using that against you."

She brought up a good point, to be honest…but then again, how could her imagination make suggestions that she hadn't considered? Unless of course, she _had_ thought of it, and then it was projected via the image of her previous self and perceived as an idea suggested by another.

_I'm losing my mind._

Although, when Trilla turned back, the Second Sister was gone, conveniently right after her mind had made that distinction.

_Ignore them. Xur Eon is out there._

The zabrak's signature was distinct among the emptiness of the planet, and its radiance was much more obvious than she was used to from him…which meant he had to be purposely projecting it. Xur had always been good at hiding himself…she of all people should know…and for him to be this easy to detect had to be more than accidental.

Trilla walked through the city and came to a tree line that spread into a forest. The trees were perfect in a sense, arranged in an almost symmetrical pattern one by one. It was odd, but all of that was a moot point against Xur's prominent presence. She spotted her Jedi self once again, darting from behind trees one by one, her hilt in hand as she peeked over.

_Just like Ossus._

To her left she spotted herself as the Second Sister, her helmet donned and pacing through the trees with a savage tenacity, blade ignited. Eventually, she noticed that as she pressed through the trees, her two avatars were approaching on a collision course, until the three of them came together in a circular clearing.

On a tree stump around the center was Xur Eon, sitting with his inquisitor hilt on his lap. The inquisitor in her screamed to ignite her blade and approach, but she instead analyzed what played out before her, slowly approaching him with a guarded stance. She wasn't on home turf, and as it seemed, she would be playing by his rules.

His blue eyes locked on to her, and he shouted over the distance. "I wondered how long it'd take you to get here!"

Trilla probed the area but sensed no danger. "You knew I was coming?"

Xur smirked. "Of course," he answered, slowly rising to his feet. "I always know when you're coming."

The taunting was already infuriating her, and the closer she got to him, the angrier she became. Before her was the source of all her misery, all her imbalance…just a fallen horned-headed Jedi with a quick wit and unmatched deception. However, she caught herself in that moment. Underestimating his cunning and skill had been her downfall, and Trilla was _never_ one to be fooled twice. To charge in now, like last time, would result in her hilt knocked out of her hand, and her on her knees.

They both stopped, a measurable distance away, probing each other. Xur let his hands fall to his hips. "I like the new getup. It's fancy."

Trilla grimaced. "I've had enough of you infecting my mind. Your continued avoidance from Imperial justice ends here."

"_Imperial justice_," Xur scoffed. "You sound just like all the others…a _drone_. Has your collective consciousness given you your orders yet?"

"Has First Sister finished suckling you?" Trilla shot back, and his expression lost its smugness. "Oh yes, I know. Being the Emperor's Wrath allows me privileged access to most Imperial information."

It was a bluff, mostly. She had no knowledge of the First Sister's true identity, but with Xur's reaction, it wouldn't much matter.

"So that's why you're all dressed up," he mocked. "You're the _Emperor's Wrath_…" he snickered to himself. "Oh, you're adorable."

"Mock me all you wish. I have evolved far beyond what you could possibly imagine."

The zabrak fell into a guarded stance, losing the nonchalant pace he adopted. "Listen to me, Trilla. Here's how this is going to go. You're going to put down your lightsaber and come with me, _now_, or the two of us are going to fight, and only one of us will make it out of here alive."

Trilla sneered. "The ladder sounds perfect to me."

"Dammit Trilla, don't be stupid!" Xur urged. "This doesn't have to be like Zeffo. The two of us can throw down our weapons and figure this out. I don't want to fight you."

"Oh?" Trilla questioned. "That is unfortunate," she growled, her double blade igniting with its purple-green hue. "Because I want to _destroy_ you!"

Xur's expression fell, his desperation becoming more apparent. "I've seen what you've been through, and I've seen where it leads. There's nothing for you on this path Trilla, _nothing!_ You'll become like this planet, visibly beautiful on the outside, but within…cold, dead and lifeless."

His words were like a plague upon her mind, stabbing at her walls with a tenacity unrivaled. Her continued resistance to them deepened her hatred and tightened her grip on her hilt.

And then he said it. "I know what it's like to break."

_That…_now _that_ drove her insane.

"You could _never understand!_" Trilla shouted, spit flying from her lips. "You have not suffered as I have…you could never comprehend what it means to _break_."

"You think all this time, all those people – Kaidan, Effa, _you_ – all becoming inquisitors didn't happen for a _reason?_" Xur questioned, approaching slightly. "Has it ever crossed your mind? They tortured you, _all _of you, to get to _me_."

"_Bullshit_," Trilla spat. "What does the Empire care about you?"

"_Oh_, you have _no_ idea," he shook his head. "If you truly believe that all of us wearing that uniform is some kind of coincidence, then you really are lost."

"I was lost _long_ ago," she shook her head, angling her blade in a ready stance. "That pain has made me stronger than I _ever_ was before…and now…you shall experience it, _cut_ by _cut_. And then, _maybe_, you can say you know what it's like to _break_."

Xur shut his eyes, accepting the inevitable as his bleeding blade snapped to life. "You're deranged, Trilla, and I want you to know that despite all of this, I still care for you…but I will do what needs to be done. You're a threat, and if you persist as one, you will leave me no choice."

Trilla held her blade steady, and her ears had tired of his words worming into her skull. Pooling her energy within the Force, she fazed forward and attacked.

As the two of them engaged in their collision course, Xur's perception slowed to a crawl. Despite the rage they both had bottled up within each other, the initiation of their hostilities was undeniably quiet. Trilla's unmatched speed met no resistance in the non-existent wind, cutting through space like a hidden blade, even with her intense ferocity. He held his blade in a defensive pose, held back with two hands as he prepared to swing, timing it to the moment her speed would grind back to a halt.

Trilla appeared before him in an instant, and he swung with battering-ram power, crashing into her blade as she swung, only this time it remained in her grip. There was surprise on his face as she already felt stronger than before, their next exchanges leaving distinct cascades of sparks as their blades clashed together with burning intensity. Xur recognized her masterful use of Form II Makashi, utilizing much better footwork to maintain her leverage and project an illusion of superior strength. He knew better of course, since strength could be enhanced through the Force, and his connection to it was stronger than hers.

Dialing it up, Xur parried her final swing of a recognizable attack pattern and went on the offensive, increasing his strength and falling into Form V Djem So, forcing Trilla to defend herself against the growing onslaught. She held up well, but the pain and strain were beginning to show on her face as her teeth grit with each deflection. Striking at the opportunity, Xur swung sideways and then overhead, resulting in a cross-guard saber lock as Trilla held him off, her stance and leverage enough so.

Trilla eventually relinquished the hold and kicked off his chest, backflipping away from him to finally earn herself a moment to refresh.

"Too much for you?" Xur said, holding his blade at the ready.

"Seen it before," she shrugged, and then zipped to the left, vanishing from existence for a moment before reappearing.

"Run all you want," he taunted. "Your fancy disappearing act doesn't work on me."

"Only has to work once."

When she fazed forward again, that was when Xur was caught off guard, as she began a relentless athletic assault on his defenses with only one blade ignited. This was Form IV, Ataru, something he had never seen her pull off. In fact, as an inquisitor, he had witnessed her many times attempt it in their training duels, only to either become too engaged in executing attack strings or simply lose her balance. Practitioners of Makashi had an especially difficult time adopting Ataru, since its aggression couldn't give a damn about proper leverage and methodical attacks.

But with her unnatural affinity for extreme speed, Xur found it extremely difficult to keep up with her, and she hit home with a cross slash that grazed his back. Instead of reeling from the pain, Xur pooled it, just as he had learned, batting her blade with a powered swing and pushing her away with an outstretched hand.

The zabrak rubbed his back as she cartwheeled back onto her feet. "Same damn spot."

She said nothing and reengaged, only this time Xur parried off her first swing and kicked her away. As she stumbled, he marched forward, pressing the attack and forcing her to backpedal in defense as they exchanged, falling back into the trees. Their blades cut through bark and seared the trunks as errant swings fell out of their duel, Trilla trying to earn back the offensive turn as Xur relentlessly continued. To her luck, she was finally able to regain proper footing and force a saber lock.

Through the sparking contact of their blades, she saw his eyes filling with that same rage she had seen on Zeffo. The longer they continued…and frankly, the more she hurt him…the more he would become immersed in the Dark Side. Knowing that and seeing the despair that worked its way over his expression, she smirked his way. He didn't react, his eyes only flashing to her blade momentarily, and she realized too late that his attention had already refocused.

She ignited her second blade and slashed across, only to see him deactivate his and watch her miss him entirely, stuck in an exposed position from her overswing. Trilla only watched in shock as his hand rocketed forward and wrapped itself around her neck, his other hand holding her hilt back. Her lungs screamed as they were deprived of air, his grip tightening as he pushed her backwards, folding her body in an improper position. Gasping with her mouth gaping open, she felt her vision tunnel through his yellowing eyes, his growing anger terrifying in every right.

Trilla thought fast and desperate, dropping her hilt and freeing both hands, pulling him into a headlock and planting her boot on his chest. Flipping over, she forced his grip from her neck and slammed his body into the dirt, knocking his own hilt free. Utilizing her flexibility to keep her leg across his chest, she pinned him and swung her fist at his head, only to see him grab her arm by the wrist and toss her off with a heavy heave.

"Look at you," she gasped, finally regaining her normal breathing pattern as she scrambled back to her feet. "So much rage!"

"I _told_ you," he replied, wiping blood from his mouth. "All your hatred, I _get_ it."

Trilla stood at the ready, eyeing her hilt behind him, as he was surely eyeing his behind her. "How could you possibly?" she spat. "You've never been betrayed as I have been."

"No," Xur shook his head. "I've had it _worse_."

She clenched her fist, threatening to crush her own bones. "You're a liar. You've _always_ been a liar. Every time I see you, it's under another guise, another deception at work. All that time you spent at my side, and for what? What could you possibly hope to gain?"

"I may have deceived you, but not _once_ did I lie to you," he insisted. "Everything I told you was the truth, and I did it to help you. Even now, you're fighting the only fight that has ever truly mattered, and all I ever wanted…was to help you win it. _That's_ why I stayed, and _that's_ why we're standing here now, and I don't care if I have to _drag_ you to the finish line."

"There is no fight," Trilla shook her head, pacing him in a circular motion. "There _is_ no conflict. There never has been. All I've ever _dreamed_ about is killing you, and once you're dead at my feet, I will finally be _free_ of your corruption…finally _free_ of the imbalance that you have placed upon me!"

Xur realized it in that moment. He had let the Dark Side take over when he had latched onto her neck, and if he continued at that rate, he would only fuel the darkness that was tearing her apart inside…and one of them would surely be killed. His mother had trained him to embrace his darkness, to control it if need be…but his master had taught him how to utilize it and expel it when necessary. There was no control in his embrace, in fact all he could equate his darkness was with _chaos_, and chaos would not bring Trilla back.

He could not watch her die again.

"All this time…all that confidence you had. Where did it go?" he asked. "Before me, you were perhaps the most lethal of them all, literally toying with your prey. I heard the stories…how many Jedi you killed, and _how_ you killed them. None of them even compared to you.

"Then I come in, and all of that is gone. Your order became chaos, your systematic thoughts tangled and shattered…you even let a little Padawan get away from you."

"And _you_, slayer of many of our brothers and sisters, were reduced to an emotionally shattered shell of your former being," she retorted. "All because of your superficial obsession with my fate. You never _cared_. Not even _then_. Not even now."

Xur shook his head. "That's not true."

"Oh?" she questioned. "How long until _you_ crack and betray _yourself?_ Is that what you want the galaxy to remember? All those resistance fighters, partisans and insurgents…what would they think of a man who cares so little about the others around him?"

Xur scoffed. "You…are lecturing _me_ about being selfish?" he asked, chucking in disbelief. "Oh, that's just fucking perfect."

"Tell me this: what went through your mind when you saw my face?" she asked. His tone adjusted, and she spotted his fist clench, feeling his mind race and recall his emotions at the time. "Ah…yes," she snickered, her eyes closed. "The anger…the rage…and most importantly the disappointment in _yourself_.

Her brow slanted. "Yes, Xur. You should be disappointed, because all of this is _all_ on you. You discarded me like ruined rubbish, and while I suffered, you continued in comfort."

He cocked his head. "Is that why you hate me? Because you think I failed you?"

"_No_," Trilla spat, her chin shivering. "I hate you…_because_ I loved you, and you did _nothing!_ Because you never cared…you never _bothered_ to search for me! You were content with believing me to the dead when I _needed you most!_" she shouted with a bellowing rage that echoed in the Force itself. "I hate you because you were the only thing I had left, and they used that against me. Cere's betrayal _paled_ in comparison beside your transgression."

"I know…" Xur admitted, his eyes shutting in despair.

"No you _don't!_" she bellowed, her hand reaching out and glowing a sickly purple. There was a deep hum in the Force as Xur clenched his heart and fell to his knees, crying out as he felt his own soul being ripped from his body.

Trilla didn't sneer. All she felt was retribution as she pulled the life force from Xur's body…and the words returned to echo in her mind.

_He has forsaken you._

_He has abandoned you._

_He has betrayed you._

Trilla's eyes shut as he felt his life pour into hers. "Yes."

_He cannot save you here._

"No one can."

_You are mine._

"I…I am…" something within her fought back, and she grit her teeth. In that moment, her Jedi spectre returned, pulling at her hand.

"Let him go!" she begged. "He's all you've ever needed; all you've ever wanted! Don't let him die!"

"Silence, Jedi scum!" the Second Sister appeared, gabbing the spectre by the neck and hoisting her into the air. "Come now, say the words! Give in!"

Trilla's eyelids shut with more intensity. "I…I am yo-…I am…!"

Her attack retaliated, the death field cut off and filling her hand with intense pain, eliciting a scream to erupt from her mouth as she fell to one knee. When her eyes finally opened, she saw Xur breathing heavily, and one hand latched onto a tree trunk.

"What…what is this?" she seethed, fighting through the pain.

"I chose this place for a reason, Trilla," he heaved, slowly forcing himself to stand. "Everything here…this entire planet…is a wound in the Force. Someone with your power has already consumed it once, and with no Force to feed on, your power begins to feed on _you_."

Trilla could feel that in her hand, and it was a pain she had never before felt, even with all that she had experienced. This place…it all made sense now…her power could assimilate the energy of all living beings if she so desired. With enough training…she now saw the potential of her own power.

Her eyes met his, and she sneered. "_Watch_ me," she declared, and conjured another field, sapping whatever life remained in the tree beside her, fighting through the pain that came like just another bout in that chair. It shriveled and died, and she felt her power intensify with all that she absorbed.

Xur looked on in horror, but thought quickly, calling his hilt back into his hand, while she did the same. With both blades ignited, they clashed, and immediately Xur felt himself being pushed back. With her raw power, it was nearly beyond his superior connection, and it was at this moment that he finally began to worry. If she could pull life even from wounds in the Force…then she would be the most terrible thing in the galaxy.

There was no choice. He _had_ to stop her.

"This is where you die!" she screamed, pushing him back. "This is where the story of Xur Eon finally comes to an end!"

Xur grunted. "I can't…let you…become…this!"

Trilla laughed. "You cannot stop me!"

She pressed forward, and his poor positioning was beginning to tear at his back, his previous wound no help. Xur could feel himself crumbling under her power, and it was taking everything he had just to match it. Desperation set in, and he looked into her eyes, trying so hard to find _any_ bit of the old Trilla he used to know within them. Even with her blinding rage, he saw that bit…the edge of her irises that had still not been consumed by the Sith yellow that had covered the brilliant emerald they used to bear.

A spark of hope.

Xur shut his eyes and reached out to the emotional side of the Force, projecting himself into her consciousness, sifting through the broken pieces that riddled its foundation. He stepped over it like shattered glass, seeing reflections of lost memories…her life as a Jedi, time with Cere, her training…all of it cast aside. However, in that destroyed wasteland of her past remained but one, conceivable construction.

_Their_ time together. It was breaking…cracks glistening as they fought, but it was intact, nonetheless. Amidst all of that was the web of the Second Sister, that who had come for that last piece of Trilla that still remained…and through the web, he saw it playing out before him.

The Second Sister had Trilla, dressed as a Jedi, held by the throat. She saw him, her eyes bulging from the lack of air, desperately begging for him to save her.

"_Help…me_," she gasped.

Xur consciously reached out, emitting a low boom that froze the Second Sister momentarily, enough for Trilla to worm herself free.

"_I can't beat her!_" she called back, while the Second Sister tried to break herself out of the stasis field.

Xur shut his eyes, focusing his connection to her as his strain mounted, and shouted back. "_Remember your training! Remember us!_" he shouted

Trilla looked back, fear stricken as she backed away from her perverse form, but the words hummed true through her consciousness. With renewed resolve, her Jedi self nodded, and faced the menace that she had become.

Her durasteel hilt appeared in her hand, just as the Second Sister was freed, and charged.

"_You will never own me again!_"

Trilla screamed, and her yellow blade clashed with the crimson of the Second Sister.

Xur's consciousness returned to reality, and he felt Trilla's oppressing motion begin to falter, her eyes glossing over as she tried to regain her focus. Seeing his moment that he had gained, he pushed off her blade and spun. The Emperor's Wrath moved her hilt too slow to stop his motion, and his crimson blade cut through the hilt, rendering it useless and continued to bury itself into her side.

Trilla screamed in pain, falling to her knees as her ruined hilt cascaded over the grass, hunching over as her hand covered the wound…and her consuming glow dissipated.

He just stood over her, letting his breaths slowly run their course, and let his lightsaber deactivate.

She felt her wound…it was plenty worse enough to end this fight, but not to kill her. Trilla tried with everything to rise to her feet, but something was wrong within her mind. The conflict within her raged like never before, and her eyes witnessed it in the form of both her spectres of being dueling each other in an even match, both pleading for her to side with them.

But she could see it, and she knew it. The Second Sister was _losing_.

_How? The Dark Side is far stronger than the Light could ever be!_

They disappeared again, and she whimpered as her wound pained her. When she looked up again, she saw his face, the face of a man who looked down upon her in victory.

"It's over, Trilla," he said.

_It's over._

_You've lost._

_He's won._

_No._

"No…" she denied, and insanity wrapped her in a vice grip that she could never escape. "_No!_"

Her hand dug into the ground, and Xur watched her scream as the surface glowed around her, and he was thrown backwards by a repulse in the Force, not stopping until he slammed into a tree. Another burst sent him back even farther, and he finally regained his bearings enough to land on his feet, shielding himself from another burst. Trees cracked and fell around him, each burst of power destroying everything as she screamed, his conjured Force barrier holding it off.

He had felt it within her. He was so close, and through the trees he saw nothing more than a broken woman who had lost everything, her rage transforming into sadness as she desperately reached for anything to save her. Her screams of pain became anguished cries, and he could not bear to hear them any longer.

Xur, through each burst, stepped forward, inching towards Trilla through her outburst. The planet itself began to rumble, an earthquake shaking the ground as he momentarily fell back. Never before had he experienced such strain upon him, and for a moment he was sure he'd be blown away, lost like the rest of the planet.

Then she screamed again.

He planted himself to the ground, conjuring every bit of power that remained within him and advanced through each wave. "Trilla!" he called. "You have to stop!"

She just screamed, and her glow was beginning to consume her entirely.

Xur wouldn't lose her, not when he was this close.

Every step was another memory: when they first met, the sabacc game, the day he showed her his lightsaber under the moonlight, the time he left her for Geonosis…the day they reunited on Ossus, her sealing his wound, saving his life not once, but again on Tranbir IX. He saw himself take her for granted, over and over, and in the end, he had paid for it. The Second Sister had been his own doing, and now was his chance to rectify that mistake.

Trilla was inches away, and the harshest burst came as he reached out, but he remained stalwart. Through the unquantifiable strain, he reached out, pulling her hand from the ground and clasping it into his. Just as he would with Force lightning, he absorbed that power, pulling it from her as he shared her burden, freeing her of that pain that the wound inflicted upon her. Xur embraced her suffering without hesitation, condensing that energy from within her before pulling it completely, and with a pained scream, he dispersed it back into the Force, spreading his arms out wide as he stood.

Through the chaos, Trilla's sense returned, and when she looked up, she saw him, his arms spread wide, open…_vulnerable_.

She grabbed ahold of his hilt from his belt and drove the blade straight through his heart.

Silence followed.

The energy dissipated, and all that remained was a desperate gasp as Trilla pulled the blade from his chest. Xur looked down, his eyes spotting the smoldering hole, and with apologetic eyes, he met hers.

"_I'm sorry_," he said, barely a whisper, as his body flopped onto the dirt.

Trilla's eyes widened as she heard the words, and within that moment, she witnessed her Jedi spectre drive her Jedi blade into the Second Sister…before they both faded away, out of sight.

She'd done it. She'd killed Xur Eon.

Her expression was blank, looking upon his body with confusion…and she repeated that same sentence in her head.

_I killed Xur Eon._

She expected balance. She expected happiness, but she felt…

_I killed Xur Eon._

Trilla dropped the blade in horror, letting it deactivate as her mouth gaped open, shocked, stunned…and most of all…

_I killed Xur Eon._

Broken.

"No…" she breathed, looking down at her hands, before returning her gaze to his limp body. "No…no, no, no!"

Crawling across the grass, she cradled his head into her arms as tears began to fall from her eyes. He looked up at her, barely remaining…barely clinging to life.

"I'm sorry!" she begged. "Please…please don't go!"

He rasped, barely able to breathe, but he looked up to her, finding the strength to caress her face. "I'd…do it all…again…for you. _Anything_…for…" his breath echoed from his mouth, and she felt his body go limp in her arms.

"I…" she cried. "I forgive…" then it set in. His eyes…there was nothing left within them. That fire he always had was snuffed out…the fire that she had fell in love with. The balance she had been searching for…with him gone…it was unachievable. "No, no, no, don't go!" she wailed, her tears flooding her eyes as she plunged her head into his cold chest. The agony that she felt now…not even ten Imperial torture chairs could simulate it. This hurt…this _wound_…was _forever_.

Trilla's head whipped towards the sky. "Why?! Why must I be made to suffer?! All I ever did was love him! That's all I ever did!" she screamed, before crying again, profusely and without relent. She cupped his dead face into her hand, and she kissed his forehead, trying to find some relief from her agony, but it only intensified. "Why…why can't we live together?" she cried, barely a whisper as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Trilla Suduri…so quick to lose faith, you always were."

She looked up, and though her sullied vision via her tears, she made out the misty vision of Master Yoda…sitting on a tree trunk on a planet she couldn't recognize.

"Master…Master Yoda?" she sniffled. "Why…why are you here?"

Yoda grumbled, holding his cane before him. "Watched him, and you, for a long time I have."

Trilla's brow arched in sadness, and her face fell back into Xur's chest. "Have you come to say I told you so? Have you come to tell me that attachment is against the way of the Jedi? If you are, I suggest you fuck off," she spat. "And let me embrace what I have done alone."

Yoda sighed. "And still, now you ignore what disagrees with what you previously conceived. Convinced, you have been, that hope has eluded you, and yet there it stood, right before you."

She raised her head and screamed. "You have no idea what I've been through!"

"Suffered greatly, you have," he nodded. "900 years old, I am. Think suffered, I have not?"

Trilla only looked upon him, before letting her face fall back into Xur's chest. She had no strength to retort, nor the will to continue any longer.

Yoda hopped down from his stump, trudging over to her. "Wrong, the Jedi were. In all my years, still, I had not learned. Unfeeling, stoic statues we had become…out of fear…fear of what you allowed yourself to feel."

She whimpered.

"Individuality, the Jedi had lost…consumed with our arrogant sense of self-righteousness," he answered. "For that, Trilla…I am sorry."

Trilla finally looked up again. "Sorry doesn't bring him back."

"No," Yoda shook his head, now standing over Xur's body. To her shock, he was able to grasp her hand and place it on his wound. "_You_ can bring him back. Finished with this one, the Force is not."

Trilla shook her head. "Master, healing wounds is one thing, but _resurrection?_ That's impossible!"

"Only upon those who feel the Force strongly, is this possible," Yoda insisted. "Let go of your hatred, your anger, and bring him back, you will."

Her eyes shut tightly, trying to stop herself from crying, and through his words, she found a spark of hope flicker within. With a breath, she nodded. "Alright…I'll…" she opened her eyes and Yoda was gone, leaving just her and Xur's body alone.

Trilla looked down upon him, caressing his face for what seemed like the last time, and shut her eyes, trying to clear her mind of all thoughts…all distractions. As the sounds of the planet disappeared, she was left with only silence, trying desperately to search for that hum she remembered from so long ago.

She whispered to herself. "Let go of my hatred…my…"

_Cere._

Trilla grimaced at the mere mention of her name, and almost just then she declared it impossible…but she wanted him back more than anything in the galaxy. If she had to swallow her pride for only a moment, just to get him back…it was worth every bit of it.

"Cere…if you can hear me…know that I…" it was so difficult to say. Years of bottled anger bubbled from below, and not once had she ever heard her apologize for what she had put her through. "Know that I…forgive you…for now."

_Huummmm._

Her eyes bulged wide as she heard it, and quickly she focused her mind, feeling the tidal lock of her hand to his wound, and unleashed all the life force she could. It was a heavy effort, but she continued, emptying whatever she could spare, and before long, she felt herself fainting, and the flow stopped.

Picking herself up, she opened her eyes and watched for him, letting her hand run over his face as she waited for that moment. She had exhausted everything she had, knowing that any more would simply kill her.

Trilla waited…and waited…

Nothing.

He didn't stir, and her tears returned as hope faded away once again. "Xur…if you can hear me…know that I love you…I always have."

She kissed him atop his forehead and waited again…

Xur desperately gasped for air, his eyes flashing open, and Trilla's eyes bulged in shock as he reanimated, breathing heavily as air refilled his lungs. He looked around, taking his surroundings in again as Trilla corralled him into her arms, crying tears of joy at the sight of his life returning.

Once his frantic movements ceased, his eyes fell on Trilla, and the warmth she felt with his gaze was indescribable.

"Trilla…" he gasped. "You…brought me back…didn't you?"

Her tears leaked onto his chest as she nodded, gently running her hands over his face. "I'm so sorry…Xur, please, if you find it in you to forgive me…"

He shook his head, a tear-filled smile spreading across his face. "You kidding me? That's three I owe you now."

She laughed, as did he, and he reached up to touch her face…her eyes closing as she took his hand into her own. "This one's on the house," she said.

He sniffled, letting his thumb rub the back of her hand as he lost himself in her gaze. "You're…you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Trilla smiled. "Enough of this," she shook her head and pressed her lips against his, and for the first time they kissed each other equally, with a livid madness that neither of them cared to control. Keeping their lips locked as their tongues intertwined with each kiss, Trilla positioned herself atop him, letting her legs spread over his hips, igniting a passionate euphoria within the both of them. Xur picked himself up, wrapping his arms around her as he showered all of his emotions upon her as she wrapped her legs around him, keeping the two of them locked together.

When they finally pulled away to catch their breath, neither of them looked away, despite their persistent breathing.

"I love you," Xur gasped.

Trilla cupped his cheek and let her eyes express her every emotion coming to the surface. "I love you too."

They kissed again, but this was with less madness, more serenity and ease, letting each other feel the comfort of their presence, instead of the intensity of their lust. Both of them had never felt such happiness, such bliss, in their entire lives. When they pulled away again, Xur reached for the button atop her suit.

"Why are we still dressed?" he asked, but she gently grabbed his hand.

"That's a good question," she giggled. "Come now, General Eon. Our chariot awaits."

Xur breathed, finally catching his breath from their heated and lustful exchange. "Chariot? The fuck?"

The sound of engines ripped through the air as Xur looked past her head and into the evening sky, and the _Fury_ came in for a landing not far from the clearing their battle had created. Xur's eyes glistened at the sight of it, and Trilla giggled with his reaction.

"You're _shitting_ me…is that…?"

"Razor-Class Interceptor," Trilla answered for him, falling forward and kissing him again, to which he obliged, letting his hips shudder between her legs. Their excitement was like a bonfire within the Force, threatening to spread all around, destroying everything in its path until nothing remained.

Trilla pulled away suddenly and grabbed his hand, helping him to his feet. "Let's go, love," she enticed, and the two of them jogged with their hands locked, coming up the loading ramp with the obnoxious stomping of both their boots.

"_Whaaaaaat_…" Xur reacted, his hand over his mouth in awe at the interior of the ship. Trilla pulled him along through the first hall and into the central cabin, the holotable present in the middle. "This is…this is too much."

"You're telling me," Trilla smiled, letting his hand go to let her cape drop to the floor.

"Trilla, I-," Rava rolled around the corner, and as soon as her red optic looked upon Xur, she quickly brandished her shock prod and charged forward.

"Woah, woa-," Xur protested, ready to move away, but Trilla jumped in between their paths.

"Rava, stop! He's alright!" Trilla insisted. The spherical VI gave her what equated to a confused look, letting her domed head swing between the two of them.

"How did this come to pass?" Rava asked, her shock prod still out.

Trilla realized she didn't have enough words to sum it up, which resulted in an incomprehensible blob of speech, to which Xur was happy to translate.

"Hey droid, name's Xur," he greeted. "What Trilla is trying to say is we're friends now."

Rava paused, angling her head downwards. "I am _not_ a dr-."

"We know, Rava, just…put the prod away…" Trilla insisted with her hands raised in an easing motion.

Eventually, Rava heeded her command, slowly propping herself back up and letting the device hide itself back in her compartment. "An…interesting turn of events."

Trilla huffed. "Yes, yes. Now, could you afford us some privacy?"

Rava's optic flashed on and off for a moment, and Trilla couldn't understand why…what she couldn't see was Xur winking to the VI from behind…until Rava spun around and headed to the cockpit.

"As you wish, Trilla Suduri."

Once Rava was finally out of sight, Trilla let out a sigh of relief, while Xur patted her back. "That was a close one, huh?" he joked, wrapping his arms around her stomach from behind. "Now what?"

Trilla chuckled in a deep tone that was almost maniacal, turning in his grip to face him, her hands plastered against his firm chest. "Do you remember…on Bracca," she began, slowly pushing him back as he nigh begged to press his lips against hers again. "I told you that I would _deal_ with you later…?"

Xur gulped. "I also remember punching you…should I be worried?"

Her nose exhaled off his neck, resulting in goosebumps of pleasure from her closeness, the feel of her curves against his body. She laughed again, and every chuckle increased the size of one of his own. "Maybe," she teased, her lips just beside his ear, and her whispers shivered his spine with a fierce excitement. She then groaned when his bulge grazed in between her legs, and Xur could hardly contain himself any longer. His heartbeat was fast enough to conjure sweat, and when he let his hand glide up to feel her breasts, her heart was beating just the same.

With sudden fierceness, Trilla pushed him against the closest wall, the impact rumbling the durasteel as she kissed him hungrily. Pressing her body up against his, her arms wrapped around his neck as she lifted one leg, Xur reaching down to pull her knee such that no space remained between the two of them. The taste of her was so sweet, even if there truly was none at all, and when he had enough of her mouth, he moved to her neck, in which she pulled her head back to expose it for him to do as he pleased. Her moans were like music, and her hands pressing against his muscles elicited a comfort that was both exciting _and_ soothing.

Trilla placed her hand on his head and gently pushed him off her neck, rearing her head forward like an apex predator, slithering her tongue down his throat. After her exquisite tease, she was suddenly almost too much for him to handle. The love she showered upon him reflected years of holding herself back…years of being trapped in a persona that was not her own and was now finally graced with the chance to show him how much she really cared about him.

It was undeniable. She _loved_ him, and he loved her.

She pulled back to catch her breath, biting her lip once it returned. "You're all mine, _Jedi,_" she sneered. "There's no escape from _me_."

Xur chuckled. "For once…I'm okay with that."

When they kissed once more, Xur took his chance to pull the button out from atop her suit, revealing a front zipper that he struggled to find as Trilla continued her onslaught of affection. Before long, she caught the craze, grabbing ahold of his belt and unbuckling it with ease, keeping their lips together and tongues entwined.

Fed up with him getting nowhere, Trilla pushed herself off with a smirk, letting Xur smack back into the wall and watch as she unzipped her suit and relinquished it, revealing just the tight black underlayer that covered her body. Xur followed, removing his robes so that his upper body was exposed, and they kissed again, Trilla leading him to her quarters as she removed her pants and gloves.

Left with only her under suit, and Xur only his pants, Trilla moved to shove him onto her bed for two, but he momentarily ended the exchange.

"Wait," he breathed, holding her arms. She looked at him with slight dismay, trying to push forward so that their lips could be linked once more, but he let his hands work themselves along the side of her body, and the calming effect he had searched for was achieved. Trilla finally let herself breathe, shutting her eyes and placing her hand on his face.

"I want to…" she heaved, begging to continue. "I want you to-."

"I know," he eased, and he could feel the sweat begin to show itself on him. "But let's…do this right."

Her eyes looked at him longingly, but eventually she caught his point, nodding slowly. Their next movements were eased, caressing each other and relishing in the sight of their partner's physiques. A soft kiss followed, and in this they felt the love they had both held back pour out from their levies, and soon they knew the time had come.

Separating for a moment, Trilla unzipped her under suit and Xur watched as each inch of her skin was shown to him…her scars and also her beauty, before there was nothing stopping him from looking anywhere, he wished. When her suit dropped to the floor, she looked unsure of herself, and he sensed her insecurity blossom once again…for reasons truly unfounded. She had to have been sculpted by a higher power, as every inch of her body was nothing less than perfect, beyond even what his previous visions had ever detailed; lithe, chiseled and toned in the form of a woman who could achieve any feat.

He stepped forward, and the awe on his face loosened her expression to show that of confidence…and she reached down to his leggings. In one swift motion, they were both presented in all their glory, and once she had her turn to see him for what he truly was, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek softly, holding his head in both hands while he worked his fingers over her back. She placed more kisses on his face, those that healed, not hurt, and slowly eased him onto her bed, letting themselves position in the manner they best saw fit.

Trilla looked down from atop him, her eyes as emerald as ever, and then let their hips lock together. Each of their breaths became longer, drawn out, sorting out the pleasure like a surplus, and they both felt as if their bodies would burst if they continued. Falling onto his chest as their breathing quickened, Trilla looked directly into his eyes, and they kissed, needing occasional breaks as their bodies seized from waves of ecstasy.

When the end came, neither of them wished it so.

* * *

Multiple rounds passed, taking an amount of time neither of them cared to wonder or keep track of, and eventually Trilla was simply staring at his back as he breathed, letting her finger trace over his various scars left by wounds of a forgotten war, her sweat running its final cycle. Xur let her, as the sensation was soothing, and her touch was rivaled by no previous experience. He felt her finger trace a cross slash that went the length of his back, and she sighed.

"I gave you this one…" she trailed off.

Sensing her growing dismay, he turned over, removing it from her gaze, gracing her with the sight of his face. "Trilla…it's over. That time has passed."

She looked no less comforted, and he took it upon himself to cup her cheek and kiss her tenderly on her forehead, to which she gripped his wrist tightly. However, in his forward motion, he discovered three circular scars on the side of her forearm, all spaced out equally. With ease, he let his fingers glide over them, and he felt her tremble.

"Before the death fields…I had a lot more skin deformation," she explained, and she felt herself falling back into that memory, the sounds returning…the _voices_.

"Hey," he called, and she felt herself being dragged out of the abyss…but not by some unseen benefactor…by _him_. "No more apologies…we embrace who we are, Trilla…and know that I will _never_ let you down again."

Trilla's brow arched, and she let her hand brush over his face. "You have never let me down, Xur. If anything…you're the only one who has always looked out for me, even when I didn't think I needed it. Please know that I will never take you for granted again. Wherever you go, I'll follow, no matter where it may take us."

Xur smiled. "I love you, Trilla."

She pulled herself closer, letting her skin rub against his once again.

"I love you too," she answered. "With _all_ my heart."

* * *

**So I updated the romance scene, since I felt it ended somewhat suddenly. Hope you guys enjoy the changes.**

**See you guys soon for what comes next…**


	20. Running the Table

**CHAPTER 16**

Running the Table

"I don't trust anyone who makes more than I do."

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Surface of Katarr**

_Finish what I started…or…_

_ Let the past die._

_ Avenge her death._

_ She is mine._

_ Burn in hell, fucker._

_ We shall see._

Light flooded Xur's vision as he awoke, all coming in through the stargazing window above. Squinting before he went blind, the zabrak grabbed his pillow and covered the beam of light, allowing him time to adjust. With his sense restored, and his memory returning, he looked to his right to find empty, ruffled sheets. His head fell back as he smiled, remembering what had taken place last night, and perhaps why he was feeling more ache-riddled than usual.

If _that_ was sex, then he wasn't sure he'd have the same view on life ever again.

But why was Trilla gone?

Quickly, he scavenged what clothing he could find, covering himself enough to be at least acceptable among friends…not at all professional. Coming through the door, somewhat expecting an attack, he saw her, dressed in her garments minus the cape and armor, sipping on a cup of caf while she ran through the holomap. Her eyes darted to him quickly, surely an inquisitor reflex, but her tension soon relaxed, looking happy as ever to see him.

"Morning, darling," she greeted, shutting off the holomap.

"Thanks for the wake-up invite," he said, wiping his eye as he approached her. "Do you normally get up so early?"

She giggled happily as he stooped in for a kiss, before taking the seat beside her. "Excess sleep for myself is about…five hours? And that's a _long_ time," she pointed, taking another sip. "Caf?" she offered.

He shook his hand in dismissal. "No thanks, hun. Never liked it."

She popped her eyebrows. "Your loss, I suppose."

Xur laughed, finding himself just looking at her from his spot. It was strange…being so captivated by her doing absolutely nothing…just sitting there…

Trilla's eyes paced away before returning and giving him an amused smile. "What?" she asked.

He didn't know what to say. "I don't know…you're just…happy."

She shrugged in a matter-of-fact fashion. "All thanks to you."

The zabrak wanted to clamber atop her again, to get a taste of her skin over his tongue, and to feel her body shudder against his. It was an instinct so primal…usually those he had tried to ignore, but this was the most enticing of all, and it just came with letting his eyes linger too long on her lithe form, one that commanded his attention at every turn. However, it was deeper than just her obvious sex appeal, which was _plenty_ powerful, it was how she carried herself. There was a confidence to her stride and demeanor that was especially mesmerizing, and he'd even seen it well before either of them knew each other very well. Twelve years it had been since that sabacc game, and since there had been an undeniable barrier that had barricaded the distance between them.

It was just a shame it took so much pain, and his own death, for it to finally fall, and yet, despite all she had suffered, they had come far enough to finally find themselves again. They would both require time to heal, certainly, but he knew that if they allowed themselves to, the reward would be lifelong.

Now, the biggest question remained.

Xur sighed, leaning back. "So…what now?"

Trilla's smile faded, and he pained to see it go, but the question needed to be asked, and it needed to be addressed. Regardless of how they felt about each other, their obligations still had them pitted against one another.

Which meant someone was going to have to let themselves go.

She sighed, letting her eyes fall to the inside of her cup as it fell atop her thigh. "I don't know."

Xur tipped his head. He needed to switch it up. "Alright. Tell me what you want. Right now, what is it that you want most?"

Trilla's emerald-yellow eyes looked directly to him in an instant. "I want to be with you."

"Okay," Xur nodded, leaning forward. "You understand what that entails, right?"

She paused, looking down to the beskar imperial insignia on her chest, branded to her like a badge of shame that instantly instilled regret within the brunette. There was a limit, however, as part of her felt some of the things she had done were justified, especially actions that surrounded her conflict with Cere.

Which to her, was _not_ settled in the slightest. Trilla had merely sacrificed her pride for one moment, all to save his life, and now that he was back, there was unfinished business that she had to attend to.

"You want to go after Cere," Xur noted, detecting it in her thoughts, and she nodded in confirmation. "I think I understand…but why?"

"I need to hear her say it," Trilla answered, letting her head fall back such that she kept her gaze on the ceiling. "I need her to tell me that it was her fault, and that she failed me…" she trailed off, letting her eyes return to him. "Otherwise I'll never be free."

Xur had, many times, made it clear that he himself held Cere accountable, but when he was the Second Brother, he had preached time and time again to Trilla about accountability. Shifting blame was a lack of integrity that would only fuel the quelling darkness within her, at last placated by the resolution of its driving source.

But there was such thing as the necessity for closure, and Xur knew, one way or another, she would have to look Cere in the eye sometime soon. How it played out was her business, just so long that she was free of the nagging issue that it represented.

He nodded. "Alright…but you haven't answered my question," he reminded her. "The Empire…you in, or out?"

Trilla's expression fell, and part of him felt bad for presenting her with such an ultimatum, but the choice needed to be made, otherwise he feared he could never trust her.

She swallowed and placed her cup on the table, rising to her feet to pace away, and Xur felt the conflict within her. There was courage, but there also a large amount of fear holding her tongue. The indignities she had suffered were life-altering and forever-scarring, and Xur knew he could only lead her to the knife that could cut her strings, but she would have to be the one to perform the action.

"When I was in the Fortress, I had lost all hope of rescue," she recounted, her back turned. "The day I cracked…was the day I had accepted that the Empire was my new home…my new family, and when I placed that helmet upon my head, I had finally felt safe once again."

Part of her smiled at the ridiculousness of it all. "Those Jedi I killed or captured, it felt justified that I was bringing them somewhere safe, and in time they would see it my way. The galaxy became simple…hunt, kill…or die.

"And then you came along…and that safety I once felt was _gone_. Suddenly there was someone out there who was killing us not only by luck, but in droves," she turned to face him, crossing her arms. "No one would admit it, but you scared the _shit_ out of us."

Xur snorted in amusement. "Good to hear I succeeded in some capacity."

"Of course, in our arrogance we lined up to challenge you, and of course, one by one, inquisitors would face you, and not come back…" she then chuckled to herself. "Safety? Fuck all that. After Zeffo, when you revealed yourself again, the Fortress was _quiet_. Not a _word_ was spoken about you. It was like you were…" she laughed to herself slightly. "…fucking taboo or something of that nature."

He laughed along, and they both let it ride out. Her joke wasn't even all-impressive, but it did plenty for the two of them. It was just another thing they hadn't done together in so long, and they recognized the importance of capitalizing on the moment.

But when the laughing stopped, her smile faded. "Xur…I need you to understand something," she admitted, stepping forward and falling to one knee, taking his hand into both of hers. "There is nothing I am more afraid of than…" she trailed off, and it was almost torture for her to make him wait to continue, but it was as if she slowly petered out, like a speeder whose fuel had finally run out of fumes.

Xur leaned forward, letting his hand squeeze her forearm. "What? Tell me."

When Trilla rebooted, her mouth almost gaped open, and her eyes locked with his in a stunned realization. "I…I was going to say…but _no_…all along, it's…" she pulled away, pacing again, and Xur only looked on in concern, eventually rising to his feet to meet her.

"Hey," he eased, pulling her to face him. "You can tell me."

Trilla's eyes shut, and part of her shuddered, but once it passed, she looked upon him with newfound courage. "All this time, I had been most afraid of retribution from that…_thing_," she struggled to say it. "From…"

"From Vader?" he finished, gripping her tightly for support.

She nodded, but she wasn't embraced by fear as he expected. "Yes…but now…now that I have you here…" she trailed off, caressing his face with her hand. "I would sooner face his wrath than lose you again. The pain he inflicts…it _paled_ in comparison to the agony I felt at your death."

Xur almost told her who Vader really was, but with all that she had gone through, the last thing she needed was another shocking revelation that would only worsen her current condition.

He gripped her wrist and let his forehead rest against hers.

"So listen to me when I say this," she insisted, pulling her head back so he looked her in the eye. "The Empire took _everything_ from me, and whatever may come from me being at your side, I will gladly face. I don't care _who_ it is. _No one_ is taking you from me _ever_ again."

To hear the tenacity in her voice…the _fight_…it was all the proof he needed.

"Welcome back, Trilla Suduri," he smirked.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You _cunt_," she mumbled, before pulling him in for another kiss, to which he happily accepted. "Now I just need to get this thing off," her eyes panned to the insignia again.

Xur reached up, letting his hand glide along her side. "I could help you with that."

"I bet you could," she taunted, grabbing his wrist. "I'm sure you'd come up with some roleplay rubbish too."

Xur almost grimaced. "_Ugh_…I wish I was that creative."

Trilla turned her head and bit her lip, before grasping between his legs and pushing him away. "If only," she shrugged.

"Your playing with prey instinct seems to have translated to 'play with your man'," he joked, taking the seat across from her as she retook her own.

"Oh? Don't like a little tease?"

"_Well_…I didn't say all _that_."

Trilla smiled, eventually letting herself giggle, before fetching her caf from the table and taking a sip. "Well General, since we're both on the same side, how about you give me your spill?"

_Trilla and I…on the same side._

No words could properly describe it.

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Highlands**

Dathomir was her home…and as far as she could see, it was the entire galaxy. Since Merrin had been born, she had never left this place, and whether or not that was for the better had never been a question she had asked. With the massacre of her people at the hands of the machine army, there was little reason for her to remain…and yet she had nowhere else to go. Seclusion was…bliss, in a sense.

Years went by, and with nothing but time on her hands, Merrin had practiced much of her craft. With no teacher, it had been difficult, but in her solitude, she had progressed even further than she ever dreamed of. Mother was the foremost practitioner of their magik, and only a select few were ever able to learn from her directly. With her sisters gone…the list narrowed down quickly.

At first, she had questioned whether or not she was worthy of taking up such a mantle, not to mention overcoming the grief of being the only nightsister to survive. Many times she had asked herself why she had been spared, and even considered sparing herself a life of singularity…but she found her purpose in the memory of her coven. This planet had been theirs, and she made it her duty to keep it that way.

Some had come, seeking to plunder her home, and she had sent them away, sometimes permanently…and then Cal Kestis walked the surface. Her immediate reaction was to force him out, perhaps even kill him, but she was…_glad_ she had chosen a 'wait and see' approach. Cal was a liability here…certainly an attraction for enemies, but her time with him had proven worthwhile, and his tenacity to make up for what he had brought to her world was admirable.

He did look at her in an odd fashion from time to time…

Merrin couldn't place why he would suddenly fall into bouts of anxiety during their conversations, and she had chalked it up to be a human thing. Men were strange anyhow, as the nightbrothers always adopted submissive behaviors around her, which, as she determined, was a part of the order of things on Dathomir, even if she was only around 17 galactic years old.

But Cal wasn't submissive. She deducted that he had been vying for her favor, perhaps for something sinister, but that was becoming less likely the more she watched him. He was noble and kind, never once insulting her despite the way she had come after him…and now he was preparing to face the invaders of her home.

If these were the Jedi, then she had mistaken them.

The nightsister let herself manifest atop a cliff ledge appearing on one knee as she watched the hulking "inquisitor" that Cal had referred to lead armored men behind them. She had already watched a few men either melted by spider acid or swiped up by a nydak, but the large one had proven adept at staving off predators…and they obviously had no care for the lives of those with them.

They _stunk_ of invaders, and each continued step they took felt like another transgression that Merrin would have them answer for. She had no idea what Cal had planned, but she was going to do what needed to be done.

_Teleport_ was not truthfully a correct term for what she could do. A nightsister of her level of skill with magik merely disappeared from view, allowing themselves to walk along a cosmic plane above the current dimension. The echoing of their voice was a byproduct of this occurrence, projecting themselves twice. Her own understanding of it wasn't absolute, but she had learned enough to manage and harness it.

Once the inquisitor passed through a ruined building, Merrin allowed herself to appear atop an overlook, in plain view of them all. The armored men raised their blasters at the sight of her, and the fools who fired found their beams deflected by a green bubble of energy Merrin had already conjured, and new holes in their head.

"Well, well, well," the inquisitor sneered, to which Merrin deducted was female and a race she had never before seen. "What's this?"

Merrin's expression was fierce, and plenty enough to strike fear with just her gaze. "You trespass on my world, _inquisitor_," she growled.

The inquisitor began to giggle maniacally. "A _nightsister_? Not what we came for…but certainly not worth ignoring," she raised her hand and her troopers raised their blasters. "Let's see how good you really are, sweetheart."

Merrin sensed their hostile intent, and with a mere wave of her hand, two troopers twisted and died, their necks and bones snapped in an instant. Such crude and unprotected creatures stood no chance against her magik, but the inquisitor blazed with a dark cloud in the Force, too thick for her to see through. The screams of their companions did plenty to stall the other troopers, but the inquisitor drew her massive hilt, igniting a red beam in a _snap_.

That was when the blasterfire advanced upon her in a wave of red, and while her shield protected her for the most part, the intense strain shattered it in time, and one bolt grazed her shoulder. The burn was excruciating, unlike really anything she had felt before, and she fell to one knee conjuring a green mist to conceal her movements.

Then another lightsaber joined the fray.

"Get away from her!" she heard Cal yell as blades clashed, and when Merrin finally walked off the pain, she emerged from the mist to see him surrounded, his blade locked with the inquisitor's.

"There he is!" the Ninth Sister greeted her quarry with a smirk. "Was wondering how long it'd take you to be a Jedi."

"I'm learning," Cal retorted and flipped over the dowutin, force pushing two troopers off the edge before locking blades once again with the heavy-hitting inquisitor.

"I don't know what had Second Sister thinking you were so important," she growled, pushing Cal back with her immense strength. "She liked her souvenirs…"

Cal grunted as he pushed off her blade, parrying her counterattack before falling into another lock. "Liked?"

She grinned. "Yeah, _liked_. She screwed up so bad on Zakuul they kicked her out! Such a pity…but to not be able to catch a worthless little scrap rat like you, I don't blame the man upstairs for it."

Stormtroopers raised their blasters to fire upon Cal, but Merrin attacked again, her teeth grit from fighting off her wound, eventually clearing the field of all excess distractions.

Ninth Sister grumbled, shoving Cal's blade hard enough to plant him on his rear. "Looks like your nightsister girlfriend is here to save your ass," she spat. "Still won't be enough."

"I'd think again, _parasite_," Merrin retorted, reaching out and binding the inquisitor together. The act gave Cal enough time to rise back to his feet and swing, but the Ninth Sister broke free with eventual ease and protected herself, allowing the two saber combatants to truly engage each other.

"Fight your own battles, asshole!" Ninth Sister yelled, overpowering Cal yet again, as he still did not adopt a saber form useful for countering those stronger than he. Merrin wanted to help, but her energy was wavering, expelling much of it in dealing with the other stormtroopers.

The strain mounted as Cal's back folded, but in a moment of clarity, he broke off the lock and slid underneath the inquisitor's legs, landing a cross slash across her back that made her stagger. Ninth Sister growled in pain, but when Cal tried to continue, she pushed him back with a powerful force push.

Cal picked himself up, and the dowutin grunted again, shaking off the hit. "Not bad for trash!"

"What about for a Jedi?"

Ninth Sister cocked her head, igniting both blades of her spinning hilt. "Is there a difference?"

Merrin watched the two of them pace each other, Cal reading the Ninth Sister's movements while the dowutin tensed, her rage building as the pain of her wound persisted. She wasn't sure if Cal could sense it, but the inquisitor's strength was increasing the more pain she felt, and with the sting of her own shoulder-graze wound, the nightsister was perplexed by this. To _use_ pain to her advantage…could be a powerful tool to restore her strength, instead of letting it fleet away.

Ninth Sister charged with her shoulder forward, and her momentum was far too much for Cal to possibly hold off. Rolling aside to avoid the hit, Cal tried to slash at her back, only to watch her block the attack with her saber pulled behind, and then bat him away with a powerful backhand. Merrin watched Cal spin through the air and land in a heap, holding his jaw in pain while BD-1 lost his grip on his back. The dowutin had no hesitation, raising her blade and slashing down, Cal barely stopping it from killing him.

Merrin watched him struggle, his blue blade slowly falling upon him as the stronger duelist pushed downwards. Cal couldn't hold her off forever, and with his position, there was little he could do to retaliate.

Meaning she was about to watch him die…this man who had no ties to Dathomir, one who had risked his life without hesitation to confront this hulking menace that threatened her home. In that moment, she saw it all again…those green and blue blades tearing her loved ones apart, some being shot dead and left for the insects to consume. Those who had come to her world had no respect for the living…in fact she could not sense a single living being on that day, and now…she could only sense one before her. The other was lost, a puppet for a master she could not see, acting without any care for what she left behind.

Cal…he _cared_…and she couldn't watch him die…not like she watched her sisters helplessly fall around her. Now, she had _power_, and she'd let those who would dare harm her coven feel that power.

Shaking off her wound, she gripped the inquisitor's hand with a green spectre of energy and pulled her away from Cal. "Leave Dathomir!" she shouted, her voice doubled over and menacing. "Or die!" She unleashed a flurry of energy attacks that the Ninth Sister staved off with her spinning blade, before reaching out with her claws.

Merrin felt herself dragged from her position by an unseen hand, but she quickly recovered, placing her hands together and unleashing a beam of light that burned the inquisitor's armor, blinding her enough to free the nightsister from her grip. Merrin landed on both feet, clenching her fist. "Get up, Cal Kestis!" she commanded, and the Jedi quickly obeyed, letting BD-1 clamber back atop him and toss him a healing stim. "You're not dead yet."

Cal nodded in thanks and shored up his position. If he was going to win this duel, he would need to adjust his strategy. Brute force wasn't going to cut it, or he'd need Merrin to bail him out again, and the Ninth Sister was learning.

Tried and true with Form III Soresu, Cal's defense had kept him alive thus far, but he needed quick counterattacks…or simply be nimbler in his movements. He had seen Trilla faze around him, almost out of sight, and while he couldn't emulate that kind of speed to this point, copying it may be what saves his life. Her mastery of Makashi was greater than any he had yet seen, while the Ninth Sister was proving skilled with Djem So, a form Cal had experience with via his old master…just not at this intensity. Precision was going to be key in this next exchange, and Cal would need it to expose her growing animosity.

Adopting a forward stance, Cal marched forward, slipping past one massive swing with a simple movement of his body, and blocking the next with ease. When the third swing came, Cal ducked beneath and kicked her in the chest, enough to make her stagger and earn him a mark across her chest.

Except she merely shook off the pain and continued her attack, forcing Cal back into a defensive pose. Frustrated he had lost his momentum, he blocked and parried as much as he could, but the openings were becoming smaller, while her attacks became more erratic and uncontrolled. Cal found his chance, flipping around a foreseen swing and slashing her hip, this time ready for the overhead saber lock that she initiated with a pained scream. Riding it out, and letting her think she was beating him down, Cal struck, falling off the blade and spinning, letting his blue blade cleave straight through her wrist and sever her saber hand completely.

The Ninth Sister fell to one knee, grasping her forearm stub in pain, while Cal breathed. "It's over!"

She merely looked up with her one good eye, and to his shock, she slowly rose to her feet. "Being an inquisitor taught me no setback is too great. When you've already lost yourself…a limb's _easy_," she sneered, her expression adopting confidence Cal did not find well-founded. "You know, I was a Jedi."

Cal grimaced. _So was Trilla._

Her frightening smile slithered down his spine as he held his blade at the ready, backing up as she stood. "It'd be fun to bring you in…and watch you _crack_ like the rest of us!"

His danger sense ignited his back, and he deflected her floating blade as she called it back into her remaining hand, holding it before him. Cal growled in annoyance at her persistence, as he felt her own rage transfer to him.

"Oh, it angers you, doesn't it?" she growled, and then attacked. "Just wait until the isolation, torture, _mutilation_, and your friends!"

Cal held off her intense power even with only one of her hands, feeling his rage burst at the mere mention of her harming Cere or Greez. "I won't let you touch them!" he declared, batting another attack away.

The Ninth Sister was then held down by a green energy, and in a moment of instinct, Cal spun and plunged his blade into her heart, driving it through her resistive fabric with another thrust. "That was for Prauf, you bitch!" he spat, pulling his blade free.

As the dowutin flopped over and died, her smirk met his gaze, and it remained until her muscles lost their function.

He'd killed the Ninth Sister.

"Let her body rot under the red sun of Dathomir, her bones and flesh carrion for the scavengers…" Merrin said, appearing beside him.

Cal huffed, his anger slowly dissipating, and that was when he felt the weight of his actions bear down on him. After what he had experienced through Trilla's hilt on Zakuul, he had seen what these inquisitors used to be, and the suffering they endured.

And yet, he had killed her, without a second thought…and he _enjoyed_ it.

"I…" Cal gasped, staring at his hand. "I should've have done that."

"Why not?" Merrin asked. "She was going to kill you."

"Maybe, but she could've been saved…I should've tried."

The nightsister cocked her head with an intense look. "Cal, you should know by now that you cannot save everyone…sometimes survival is all that matters."

"At what cost, Merrin?" Cal asked. "You saw her. If I bring myself down to that level, then I'm just another inquisitor."

She knew she wasn't going to get anywhere, and honestly didn't know how to change his mind…but figured something simple may be enough.

"I think you did the right thing."

Cal paused, letting his eyes finally pace up to hers. There was a longingness to his expression, and she sensed his emotional rage placate itself with justification…through merely her approval. He had…taken value in her opinion…something that often-required coercion through her magik…or brought forth by fear of her power.

But he just…took her words to heart—her own words.

"Thanks, Merrin," he said, BD watching from over his shoulder.

_Doo-whoop?_

Cal flushed red. "What? No!"

Merrin smirked, placing her hands on her hips. "What did he say?"

"Ah, nothing," Cal waved off, trying to keep his eyes off her. "We'd, uh…better go get that Astrum before the Empire sends more troops," he suggested, walking past her, back up the path towards the Tomb of Kujet.

As she watched him go, her smirk widened across her face.

She knew what was going on.

* * *

**Vandor, 14 BBY**

**The Lodge**

"If my ship gets boosted, it's your ass."

Xur scoffed from Trilla's comment as they walked beside each other, ascending a long flight of stairs cut out of a rock face. "Relax. Rava is plenty smart enough to look after the _Fury_ while we're gone."

Trilla's teeth chattered from the cold, her body not acclimated after leaving the cozy environment of her ship. She had never been to Vandor, as its population was that of a frontier colony, and already she could see the vermin that manifested. The rock face stairs ascended to a mahogany-colored structure looking out over the edge of the cliff, and the fires and lights stuck out as the evening set in.

To not stick out, despite Xur's assurance that it wouldn't matter, they had both donned fur coats to conceal their weapons. She had merely taken one of the multiple inquisitor hilts the Emperor had supplied for her, even if it felt unreflective of her current state. A weapon was a weapon, after all. On the other hand, she had at least adjusted her makeup style, losing a lot of the heavy eye shadow she used to apply in favor of something that didn't make her stand out as much. It was a nice adjustment…even with how small it may be.

"Now listen, I know it might be hard, but please try not to cause any trouble," Xur asked as they approached the main doors.

Trilla rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I'm not going to lose my cool in a bar full of gamblers and time wasters."

"Just follow my lead. We just need to find our guy. He's a popular face here, so it shouldn't be hard."

She smirked. Finding people was her specialty.

A masked alien and a few guards stopped them at the door and spoke in huttese, to which Trilla translated: "Stop there. Need an invitation."

She didn't think that Xur could speak or understand it, but he smoothly reached for his belt and displayed a card; a distinct symbol of a golden sphere she'd seen on a sabacc card. After the alien looked it over, he eventually nodded to the guards to open the doors.

"Go on in," he approved in huttese.

Trilla bowed her head, grasping Xur's hand to show they were together. "_Sonpa_."

They walked together through the crowds of aliens behind bars, sharing drinks and engaging in loud conversation. It had been a long time since crowds of people did not disperse for her, and if they hadn't, it usually resulted in someone lying dead on the floor, their body cleaved in half. In honesty, the lack of fear was refreshing, and with the fact that they wished to stay relatively anonymous, it was ideal.

Xur leaned in, needing to speak close to her ear for her to hear him. "I didn't know you spoke Huttese."

Trilla smirked as they squeezed through a tight space, one behind the other. "I speak many. I know almost all trade languages, minus a few dialects, along with Echani and Mando'a. Old Sith is one I dove in to, but it's difficult. There's a lot of strange uses of the words and sentence construction."

Xur popped his brow as they came side by side again. "_Wow_," he almost gasped. "And Binary?"

"Yes, of course," she answered, stopping beside him as they overlooked a table of card players, surrounded by an audience. She grasped his hand, creeping up beside him. "And what about my chiseled guardian? What can he muster?"

Xur looked flushed as she warmed beside him in mild condescension, running his fingers through his hair. "Uh…Basic, Mando'a…and uh…some really rusty other shit."

"Hm…" she teased, already knowing the answer. "What a shame."

"Yeah, yeah, have your little moment," he waved off as the table erupted into cheers or groans in defeat.

Trilla smiled his way, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "So who are we looking for?"

Xur flicked his chin towards the table. "See that man over there? Sitting at the back end of the table."

Her eyes keyed on an extravagant human, his clothing sophisticated yet simple; style undeniably attractive. The brightness of his smile demanded attention, and charisma…that could be determined within only a few moments of watching him.

"That's Captain Lando Calrissian," Xur answered for her. "Smuggler. Damn good at it too. He and I have run a few ops before, and he owes me a favor."

Trilla narrowed her eyes. "And here I thought you never dirtied yourself with the likes of spaceport rabble."

"Ah, well," Xur shrugged as Lando won another hand. "We do what we must to survive. He's a good guy…I _think_ we're friends."

"_Think?_" Trilla scoffed, looking back his way. "Then let's test that theory and get moving."

Xur pulled back on her hand. "Now, now, you may know a thousand languages, but it's obvious you don't know shit about underworld etiquette. You want to talk to the man; you've got to play the man."

Trilla sighed in annoyance. "Or I could walk up with my blade and we'll be able to get out of here."

"I said _not_ to cause trouble…" Xur insisted, letting his gloved hand rub her back. "Come on, hun. You've spent the last four years moving at a parsec a minute. You should take a chance to slow it down."

"Me?" she asked, confused. "Why just me?"

Xur flicked his head. "Because there's only one seat at the table there, babe, and he's seen me play before…but not you."

Trilla grimaced. She hadn't played sabacc in years, and no matter how good she used to be it at it, her confidence in her skill wasn't there. Then again, wiping that presumptuous smile off Lando's face oddly appealed to her, and if she could set her mind on that, it might be worth it.

"Alright," she sighed, stooping in for a kiss. "Wish me luck."

"Word of advice. If he's smiling, he's probably cheating," he threw in, pushing her towards the chair while he looked on from his spot.

Trilla remembered that as she walked over to the empty chair, drawing attention while the previous round ended and Lando pulled his winnings from the pot. It was somewhat unsettling to have so many eyes on her, probing as to why someone of her make would be approaching. Many of those around the table were aliens of races she had never even seen before, and it was somewhat ostracizing to be the only woman taking a seat. She sensed much confusion…all from one.

Trilla eyed the seat. "May I?" she asked.

Lando looked up, and instantly there was a broad smile across his face. "Well, what have we here?" he asked, the flirtatious demeanor jumping off his words. "That seat is all yours."

She figured as much would happen, and she was ready for it. "Such a gentleman," she returned, being sure to take her seat as confidently as possible, drawing the eyes of the other players around the table. "This place is rather short on those."

He chuckled. "I do my best," he tipped his head as the cards were dealt around the table and she pulled whatever credits she could muster for her buy in. "So what brings a creature as exquisite as you here? It can't be for the company, as you've…obviously displayed," his joke earned some laughs around the room.

"No," she shook her head, eyeing her first card, a green 10. "Just came to play."

"Ah," Lando noted. "Ever played before?"

Trilla shrugged as the second card was given to her. "Once or twice."

As everyone received their second cards, bets were placed, and Lando allowed himself a drink. "Captain Lando Calrissian," he introduced himself. She hesitated on her next answer, unsure if she should reveal herself, but knew it would be detrimental to her strategy to look vulnerable.

"Trilla," she simply said, calling the current bet.

"No family name?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"Save that for emergencies," she answered with a wink and smile, sensing her flirt taking hold within the man, as well as waves of jealousy from other females in the room.

He chuckled. "I like you already."

The bet came around, just leaving he, her, and a few others to show. "Maybe not so much after this," she assured, revealing her winning hand of 22, resulting in a _woah_ of approval from the crowd.

"Very nice," Lando respected while Trilla took in the pot. "You know your way around."

"I get by," she played off, and she felt a positive nudge in the Force from Xur, who watched from the audience. As she settled back in and the next round of cards came out, Lando couldn't help but continue his inquiry.

"I've got to ask…what is it you do?"

Trilla mulled for a moment, checking her first card. "I'm a hunter."

"Hunter? Hunter of what?"

_Oh, Captain…you're not the only one who's made a living off of manipulation._

She shrugged, adjusting her sitting posture such that one leg fell over the other. "Anything of value."

Lando was an expert at hiding it, but she sensed intimidation rattle him beneath his surface…bringing his questions to an end.

Once she received her next card, she leaned forward. "Can I ask you something, Captain Calrissian?"

He leaned back, twirling a trinket in his hand. "Anything, love."

Trilla smiled at his flirt. She needed to loosen his attitude and lower his guard. "I've heard you've run operations before."

Lando took another drink. "A few. Man's gotta make a living."

"As does a girl," she raised her own drink to that, which had been offered to her via a floating droid. "You must have quite the ship to outrun even Imperial blockades."

He tipped his head in confirmation. "I do."

Trilla narrowed her eyes, folding her no-good hand. "Let me guess…you won it…playing this game."

Lando looked around the table with a smirk, presenting the winning hand. "Right again, sweetheart."

"_Wow_," she looked on in awe. "Takes quite a man to gamble with such a thing. Not sure I'd ever have the guts."

He was falling into her gaze, but he was tough to break through, almost as tough as some of the Jedi she had encountered. "Something tells me you've got a pride and joy of your own."

Trilla tipped her own head. "That would be correct, Captain."

"She fast?"

She shrugged. "If you think a Razor-Class Interceptor is such."

There were sporadic gasps, but Lando held out. "We talking Hutt, Mandalorian?"

Trilla smiled and shook her head, looking down at her two cards. "_Imperial_."

That was when Lando whistled with impression, and the _oooos _and _ahhhs_ came from around the room. "Now that, my dear, is impressive."

She let the next rounds ride out, making Lando chase her for questions and answers, while she did the hunting under the guise of the hunted. It was a simple tactic; one she had become very adept at. Sneaking a few looks Xur's way, he had merely offered her nods of approval, to which she took as confirmation to continue.

Eventually she felt her chance to take the victory come by a suited pure sabacc, and Lando's eyes committed to the current game.

"Alright, alright," Lando nodded. "I see that bet, and raise you," he offered, showing much of his credits, drawing a reaction from the crowd. "5000."

Trilla let her eyes dance from her cards to him, and eventually nodded. "I'll see that 5000, and raise you all of my riches," she offered, drawing even more intense reactions from the audience, pushing her entire pile to the middle.

"Oh, my dear," he shook his head. "Might want to hold on to those riches."

She winked. "I offer only to those who deserve it."

Lando graced her with that smile Xur warned her about, and she immediately probed him through the Force, feeling his intentions…but oddly enough, could sense nothing. His mind was filled with useless information, displayed over and over without meaning. Whatever he was currently thinking…she was _blind_ to it.

"Seeing as I hold more value that what you've placed, I'll offer you this," he said, leaning forward. "If you win, you keep the pot. If I win, you tell me your last name."

Trilla mulled his offer, humming to herself. "Does it have to be…in _public?_"

Lando shook his head. "It can be wherever you want, love."

She chuckled. "Alright Captain, I'll take your bet."

He prompted her to reveal her cards, and she placed them on the table. "Pure sabacc," cheers erupted around the room while Lando grimaced in pain…but she knew better than to celebrate.

"You're good, Trilla, I'll admit it," he pointed. "Unfortunately for you…not quite good enough," he revealed the hand she knew he had, the Idiot's Array, sparking celebration through the area, and Trilla to only sigh in defeat.

It was then that she detected the slight noise beneath his sleeve of a mechanism at his wrist, and part of her was riled up in anger at his transgression…staved off by Xur's words to not cause trouble.

Especially since Lando definitely knew who she was.

* * *

"Your friend's a real charmer," Trilla complained over the bar, a look of distain over her face as Xur listened. "It's a shame to know when a cunt is cheating and not be able to do anything about it."

"All you lost was the security of your last name," Xur shrugged, while she took a shot of heavy booze, one that he wasn't even sure he'd be willing to drink. "No big deal."

"Oh?" she questioned, waving for another drink. "I've never been so utterly humiliated in…_god_ I can't even remember how long. He's lucky I don't kill him."

"Could you hold off, at least?" Xur asked, rubbing her back for comfort. "For me?"

She huffed heavily with his touch, part of her growing anger quelled, and she let it go with another drink. "So what do we need him for?"

Xur shifted his stance, looking towards the bar instead of her. "We need to find someone."

Trilla was dumbfounded, enhanced by her growing intoxication. "_Find someone?_ You have _me_ and we travel all the way to fucking Vandor for _that?_"

"Trilla, relax," he eased.

"Find someone…" she repeated, calling for yet another drink. "I've pulled out more with simply my blade in a man's shoulder."

"That's not how I operate," Xur replied, his voice becoming stern.

"It'd save us a lot of time that we…" she paused in the middle of another drink, and Xur waved to the bartender to stop obliging her. "…don't fucking have while the Empire scours the galaxy for us, sending whole legions of inquisitors our way. Instead of being aware of that, we're locked up in some shithole tavern while you have me fondle a man's nards for no reason at all."

He reeled in disgust. "Trilla…"

She grimaced, pinching her nose. "Sorry…h-how much have I had?"

Xur smirked. "Four shots of Rancor's Gut…the shit that can set off radiological alarms if mixed incorrectly."

Trilla coughed in revulsion. "And you let me drink that?"

"Oh, don't you dare try to swing this on me. You took the first shot sober."

"I…I can't even…" she stumbled, eventually falling into his arms as he caught her before she hit the ground. "_Woah_."

Xur held her up and flagged the tender for some water. "Be careful, hun," he eased, setting her down on the barstool for her to sit.

She held her head, feeling her vision go blurry. "I'm fine…I'm fine," she insisted with slurring speech, chuckling to herself. "_Wooo!_ Ha, ha!"

Xur smiled, holding her head steady with his hand. "Feeling better?"

"Hell yes!" she cheered, and Xur deducted the four shots had finally hit home. "Feeling…feeling…" she fell over and into his arms, incapable of supporting herself. He only smiled as he held her up, rubbing her back as the bartender handed him a cup of water for her.

"Good…I'm glad you're happy," he whispered in her ear.

She chuckled to herself, barely managing even that. "I…wi…my…J-…Jedi," she sputtered, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "I luh yuh."

He patted her back. "I love you too."

"Looks like you need a place to crash," Lando inquired from behind, and Xur turned.

"That'd be nice, yeah," he nodded.

Lando smirked, presenting the path before him. "Right this way," he offered, and the two of them shook hands. "Old friend."

* * *

**Hope you guys liked that one! This one was fun, especially with Cal's duel, and with a chance to write more Xur and Trilla simply together. I've been trying to fit Lando in for a small role for some time, and I'm glad I finally found a good spot (especially in a story with so many sabacc references!).**

**Thanks for all the reviews regarding the last chapter! That was really important for me and somewhat emotional, and I'm really glad you all seemed to be satisfied with it. Just as a note, I actually extended the romance scene, and if you haven't seen the changes, I encourage you to check it out!**

**Thanks for reading! I'll be back soon for more!**


	21. Fraying Ties

**CHAPTER 17**

Fraying Ties

"Agonize alone in the cold again  
I loved more than I could hold  
Cauterize, this soul can't be pure again  
It hurt more than I could show."

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Above Ord Cestus**

The stench of the man pacing along her loading ramp was palpable, perhaps overwhelming if it weren't for Vorchenko's obligation to speak with another colleague regarding the whereabouts of the "Jedi fugitive" Xur Eon. Admiral Slovis was an overweight slime who found that excuses and demeaning insults made him powerful, while the only real power he possessed was the potency of his gastral discharges. He was the living, breathing, Exhibit A of everything wrong with the Imperial Navy in her eyes, and despite his obvious ineptitude, he was deviously adept at maintaining his position.

Nevertheless, Vorchenko practiced respect, even to those who did not deserve it. "Admiral Slovis, welcome aboard the _Valkyrie_," she tipped her head. "I hope your travels were kind."

The bearded man snorted, his hands behind his back as he paid her no mind, passing her by to take the lead position on her own bridge. As far as naval etiquette, to do so was a symbol of disrespect for the current ship's captain, an assumption of his own leadership.

"Your flattery is noted, _Vice_ Admiral," he grumbled. "But I am here to get your investigation back on schedule."

Vorchenko seethed behind his back but suppressed her distaste. "If you are referring to my search for Xur Eon, you have delayed it, not expediated it."

Slovis still did not regard her. "This is no longer your operation. I have been ordered by Lord Vader himself to take command, and you have information I need to begin."

He wore that approval like an armored suit, protecting him from incoming fire he knew would result from it. She'd seen it before, and she'd dismantled it with ease.

"If you have come to commandeer my vessel, I assure you, you will find this task quite _foolhardy_," she warned, and the death troopers positioned at the far ends of her bridge shifted.

"Do not presume to threaten me, Azurian _skank_," he spat, finally looking her way. "If I so desired, I could have you dancing round a pole in my quarters," he sneered, approaching her. "Your clothes would not be permitted, _of course_."

Vorchenko's eyes panned down to him with her superior height, giving him nothing but a stoic expression. Slovis looked up to her and reached towards her breasts. "It would only take one-."

Her fist crashed into the side of his jaw, drawing spit from his mouth as his head jerked around, before landing with a _crash_ on her bridge pathway. He groaned and wheezed from her strike, holding his mouth as he rolled over. Vorchenko merely looked down, wiping her gloves clean with a handkerchief she kept handy on her belt.

"Foolish man you are to come aboard my ship with such threats, and no drones to assist you," she shrugged, watching him pick himself up. "And I am _Admiral_, as I am sure you are aware, and will now ask you to leave this vessel immediately."

Slovis grunted, still holding his face. "You _bitch!_ I'll have you facing a firing squad in due time-."

Vorchenko raised her hand, and soon the clicking of blasters sounded from her twin death troopers, who had revealed themselves to him at the front of the bridge. "I am asking you to disembark. Which language would you prefer?"

He straightened himself out, obviously trying to instill his confidence in the light of her frightening troopers preparing to gun him down. "Always hiding behind someone…whether it be Tarkin or these…_brutes_…" he spat. "You spit on our name. The great Imperial Navy should be ashamed that you wear our colors."

Vorchenko merely closed her fist, and the blasters charged, eliciting a small shrill of terror from him.

"As much as I would like to see his brains splattered, I have to insist otherwise."

She turned towards the new voice, and now walking across her bridge was the stunning image of the Third Sister, her sinister grin plenty to give even Vorchenko pause. Her hair was slightly longer than she remembered it, but that may be the case because Effa Azulia was not bearing her mask.

"Rumor was you perished, Third Sister," Vorchenko greeted, giving her men the signal to stand down. "Glad to see that was not the case."

Effa smiled, fists on her hips. "You were always such a lady, Admiral. You should take some tips from her, Slovis. Maybe then our relationship would be better off."

"I could care less about my relationship with a mystic _whore_," he growled.

The inquisitor maintained her gaze on him, her smile widening as her yellow eyes bore into his soul. "I believe it is time for you to leave, _Admiral_."

Vorchenko nodded in agreement, signaling one of her death troopers to comply. "_Kuquxe poki iznzi_," she ordered in echani.

"_Nio nokorokeu'k_," one nodded, pressing forward to escort the Admiral out at gunpoint, to which he complied, finally leaving just Effa and Vorchenko to themselves.

"Sorry about him," Effa apologized. "He's never had respect for us ladies."

"By the time he does, I'm sure it will be too late. What can I do for you, Inquisitor?" Vorchenko asked, her hands falling behind her back as she returned her attention to the viewport, prompting Effa to step up beside her.

"Unfortunately, Slovis _was_ telling the truth. Vader has assigned me to him so we can track down our favorite little zabrak," Effa explained, and then whispered needlessly. "I would totally choose you, but well, honestly…"

Vorchenko suppressed an eyeroll. "What?"

Effa cleared her throat, pulling at her under suit that crept up her neck. "Well…you see, Lord Vader doesn't really…_trust_ you?"

Her eyes narrowed. This was a threat, disguised by Effa's masterful ability to appear innocent, but not masterful enough to get past her sight. The Inquisitor was a loyal dog whose former relationship with Anakin Skywalker dictated how she pressed her interests forward, and it was almost a pity she was still a slave to her lusts and desires.

Not something Vorchenko had time to concern herself with.

"Lord Vader and I have never seen eye to eye," she admitted. "You are not telling me something I did not already know."

Effa smirked. "Then it seems you are already aware of your…situation."

Vorchenko did not grace Effa with her gaze, and merely exhaled through her nose. It was at a time like this where she wished she still had Suduri aboard her ship. "Will that be all, Inquisitor?"

The Third Sister curtsied, before turning down the command walkway. "See you around, Admiral."

_Yes…thank you for drawing the battle lines for me, Azulia._

Vorchenko turned to her deck officer once all visitors had finally disembarked from her ship. "Captain, let us continue on our route."

"Yes, Admiral."

Time was running out.

* * *

**Vandor, 14 BBY**

**The Lodge**

_After all of that…all we've done…why?!_

_ There's still a chance for you to make the right choice. You can join me. Together, we are more powerful than the Chancellor!_

_ And then what? Rule the galaxy?! Fuck that, murderer._

_ Last chance. Join with me or become my enemy._

_ That's easy. I've known the Dark Side far longer than you ever will. You're going to pay for all the Jedi you've slaughtered!_

_ Know this…after I kill you, you know who'll be next. Even if you survive this day, I swear to you, you will never see her again!_

_ Touch her, and I'll kill you!_

_ Maybe she'll have the sense to join me…or not._

_ I hate you…SKYWALKER!_

Xur jolted awake, his eyes greeted to the darkness of their current overnight lodging. He felt someone in his arms, and quickly recognized it as Trilla, sleeping peacefully beside him. Shaking off his dream, he clenched her a little tighter, feeling the security of her safely with him again.

Every night was another nightmare or traumatic reverie, and they were making it difficult for him to ever get some sleep. That last one was…something he never wished to revisit…a time of nothing but horrific loss, and unbridled rage. After that day, everyone he ever cared about was gone, and he himself was nothing but a shattered, broken shell.

The day Order 66 was issued.

Tears found their way through his eyelids, just like every night, and he buried his face into her hair, kissing the back of her head, desperately holding on to her. She was all he had left, and he could never let her go again.

Trilla stirred…and screamed as she awoke.

"Hey! Hey!" Xur eased, pulling her close, rocking her body with his lips at her ear. "It's okay…it's okay…you're safe."

She was hyperventilating, but once her senses fully returned, she grasped ahold of his arm and breathed slowly. Despite his presence, she still shook with fear, struggling to look past another nightmare.

"_Shhhh_…" he eased. "You're safe. Don't worry, I get them too."

Trilla trembled, trying not to cry. "I…I was…so _helpless_."

"Not anymore you're not," Xur urged, squeezing her shoulder. "You're stronger now than you ever were. No one will ever touch you again."

The zabrak sensed her take his words to heart, and with a nudge, she turned over so she could look him in the eye. "Tell me something."

"Anything."

She swallowed, her eyes panning downwards as she sniffled, wiping away her tears. "All that time…how did you not kill me?"

Xur was taken aback. "What?"

"When you were…posing…" she explained. "After all you saw me do…how could you stand by and let me do it? Why didn't you just kill me?"

"Trilla, that's a question you already know the answer to."

"But how did you know?" she pressed, her expression longing for the answer. "I could've killed you without ever knowing, and I _wanted_ to…and you _had_ to know that."  
"Of course, but-."

"How?" she asked, holding his face. "How did you know we would get to here?"

Xur didn't want to go down this route, as it was living in the past. For both of them, the past contained nothing but pain and suffering, and with the joy they had experienced over the past few days together, he did not want to ruin it…but he could sense that Trilla needed to know. It was a matter of trust for them both, something that still required growth.

He sighed. "I didn't."

Her eyes shut, and more tears leaked out. "You risked _everything_ for me, and I will be forever grateful…but I'm not worthy of your faith."

The zabrak grasped her hand. "Don't you ever say something like that again," he almost growled, which gave way to his own emotional breakout. "You're worth _everything_ I ever gave, and I regret _nothing_. I'd do it all again, exactly as I did it. I'd pull you out of that shuttle as it fell from the sky. I'd smash that man's skull who dared to put his hands on you. I'd challenge you at every step just so you could find yourself again. If people have to die for us to get there, then so be it."

"Why?" she asked, crying. "What did I do to ever deserve it? All I've done is hurt you."

"No," he denied. "All you've done is inspire me onwards. I'd cross the galaxy for you."

"But why?"

"Because I failed you once!" he shout-whispered, trying not to draw attention from those outside their room. "I let you go just once, and you suffered horrors you should've never been exposed to. The Second Sister was a living, breathing embodiment of my ultimate failure, and I swore to myself that I'd give everything up just to give you another chance."

Her eyes shut, and she shuddered. Watching her cry tore him to pieces, and he kissed her forehead, squeezed her for comfort…_anything_ to make her feel better.

"Thank you…" she finally said. "I promise you…I will offer that same faith in return."

He smiled, running his fingers through her hair. "That's all I'll ever need."

They kissed, and he could feel Trilla's resolve solidify in the Force.

* * *

Trilla's head felt like a twelve-inch spike had been hammered through it, and she had spent the morning drinking copious amounts of water, as well as whatever bubbly substance Lando had lying around. Whether that helped clear her pains or not remained to be seen, but she was well enough to stand aside in Lando's living room, listening as he and Xur sat across from each other.

"Thought they really got you this time," Lando admitted, sitting back comfortably. "It was a damn shame, especially with those jobs we pulled. Let me just say that finding help as good as you…not possible."

Xur shrugged. "Well…I'm back."

"Yeah, well," Lando tipped his head. "I've got a feeling you didn't come all this way to tell me we're ripping off the Haxion Brood again."

Trilla's eyes narrowed to herself as she twisted her glass, listening to the ice chime against its edges. Hearing that Xur used to pull smuggling jobs made a lot of sense, as the Empire had never been good with nailing the good ones.

"What makes you think that?" Xur asked, leaning forward, simply a probing question.

Lando shrugged. "Judging by the fact that you're hanging out with Imperial Inquisitors now, looks like you're going for bigger game."

Trilla cleared her throat. "Knew it. Cunning bastard."

Lando gave her a bright smile. "Haven't lived this long by being stupid, love."

"Alright, watch the flirting," Xur warned, and Trilla could sense his sparking jealousy, to which she suppressed a giggle. "Yeah, you're right, she used to be an Inquisitor, but not anymore."

"Did you put in your two weeks?" Lando asked, pointing to her. "Is that even a thing in the Empire?"

Trilla shrugged as she took another sip. "No, of course not. Not even sure they know I've broken out."

"Might want to check up on that. Those Imperials…stingy, stingy."

She knew better than to expect the Emperor not to be aware. With the power and vision she had felt from him, it was at least only a matter of time until he'd know she'd turned on him.

Then again…how has he stayed quiet thus far? The Empire never took kindly to traitors, but inquisitors breaking away had to be unprecedented. Although, they'd truthfully treat her like just another Jedi fugitive, and she didn't know how long they could stay out of their sight. Perhaps she'd have to take a play from Kestis' book…engage out in the open using guerilla tactics. It had worked for a bit…but _she'd_ tracked him down eventually, and if it wasn't for Xur's intervention…

In that moment, she realized their greatest strength was the fact that she knew how the Empire hunted for Jedi, and she certainly knew ways to counter it.

"So tell me Eon, what do you need from me?" Lando asked.

"You still owe me for the Tibrin thing," Xur reminded him, and Trilla noticed Lando's shift in his seat. "I need your help finding Saw."

Trilla scoffed. "Saw Gerrera? He's on Kashyyyk. Everyone knows that."

"Good to hear that's what your Imperials think," Lando smirked, and Trilla's eyes narrowed while his attention returned to Xur. "Look, that kind of information is not to be messed with, Eon. We can't have the Empire knowing how we operate, and…sorry, hun," he apologized to her. "…but I can't be spreading that around without good reason. He doesn't want anyone coming in contact, not unless its big."

"This is big," Xur nodded, his eyes wandering to her for a moment, before locking onto Lando. "We're going to hit the Fortress. I'm calling it in."

"_What?_" Trilla gasped. "Are you insane? That's a suicide mission."

Lando nodded quickly. "Yeah…I'm with her on that one. We talking Inquisitorious? The one rumored to be the place where all Jedi go to die?"

"Look, just hear me out," he eased, flashing looks to the both of them. "We've got the intel. I know how it works, and the faster we take it out-."

"We _can't_," Trilla insisted, almost furious with his own madness. "We can't go back there!"

"We have to! The longer that place exists, the more Jedi become inquisitors, and we need to destroy it while we have a chance."

Trilla frivolously shook her head, slamming her glass on the bar beside her. "I'm not…I'm never setting foot in that place again."

"Trilla, if we don't, we'll _never_ be safe."

"There is no safety you dumb cunt!" she spat, clenching her fists, baring that same hatred-filled expression she had shown him before. Through her eyes, she saw that same man who had pretended to be by her side, ravaged with guilt, continuously fulfilling a pathetic, self-righteous obligation that she didn't deserve. His own selfish desires allowed her to continue on her dark path, instead of straying her away from it.

She wanted to hate him again…she wanted to hate him for even considering taking her back to that place.

And then he dared to rise to his feet, approaching her with arms raised. "Trilla…I…"

"Stay…_away_ from me," she pointed, and stormed off, leaving him unsure as to what had suddenly made her snap. All he could do was sigh to himself and pinch his nose in regret, while Lando watched it all unfold.

"Sounds to me like you two have some issues to-."

"Lando, just…_don't_," he cut him off, returning his attention and trying to shake off what had just occurred. "Look, are you going to help me or not?"

The smuggler looked at him with the face of concern, but eventually submitted to his request. "I like you…crazy bastard that you are. I just…like myself more…so I can't help you with your little suicide mission," he admitted.

Xur grumbled. "Fine."

Lando readjusted his suit and rose to his feet. "I'll try to get you in touch with Saw anyhow," he offered, and Xur gave him a nod in gratitude. "I'm sure he'll be glad to see you anyway."

"Here's hoping."

Before Lando left him alone through the door, he turned back. "As for the lady, give her some time to cool off. She'll be alright."

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

He smirked. "You kidding me? That girl is freakishly in love with you."

That gave Xur no comfort, and when Lando left him alone, he sunk back into his chair. Love had been what destroyed her…and with her current mental state…he knew it would only take one mistake to destroy her again.

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Tomb of Kujet**

Cal stepped through them again…the webs that matted this place. The Tomb of Kujet was a conduit of the Dark Side, and he could feel his light being sapped away with each step he took. Merrin followed behind on her own accord, but her unease was still present.

He was so close now. He couldn't stop, not when the Astrium was on the other side of the tomb door before him. Ascending the stone steps, he took a chance to observe the circular markings etched in red, and he could feel that same call when approaching an object with a distinct echo in the Force. This one held a power he had never felt before, and his strength enhanced as he approached, drawing out his hand.

"Wait," Merrin grasped his other hand, stopping him from brushing his fingertips against the door. "You shouldn't touch this…it's not safe, Cal."

"It's fine, Merrin," he assured. "I can handle it."

This time, she yanked him away, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Listen to me…none of my sisters who ever walked this place returned the same. This place…it _curses_ you, and I don't want it to take someone else away."

Cal heard her words, and in her eyes, he saw her sincerity. She cared about his fate, maybe as far as to say that she didn't want him to die. To see that in her expression, he felt that mutually with her, as he may have done the same if he were in her position.

But he had killed an inquisitor. The time to be afraid was over.

"I _have_ to," he insisted, trying his best to instill his same confidence into her. "This could be the only chance to restore the Jedi Order."

She still didn't look convinced, so he grasped her hands tighter. "Merrin…I need you to trust me."

Merrin didn't have any words for him. Instead, her eyes were locked on his hands, feeling the tightness of his grip. Cal sensed her confusion, as well as her understanding, but he was only acting on what he thought was best. Why she expected him to do what he did was beyond him.

Then her eyes met his again, and it was that stern look he remembered. "When this goes wrong, I will be there to say I told you so."

Cal wasn't intimidated…in fact he _chuckled_ at that. "Fair enough."

She smiled back to him, letting his hands free and standing aside, her arms crossed. "Well then, Cal, face your darkness."

He nodded, and fighting back to that initial resolve, he stepped forward and let his hand rest on the door.

At first, there was nothing, only the cold stone against his skin, and then he felt _invincible_. Raw power surged into him, granting him endless vision, endless prowess, until he felt he could be no greater. The galaxy was at his fingertips, and he pressed his hand against the stone, trying to sap as much power as he could.

And just like that, it was gone.

Confused, Cal turned, but now saw that Merrin was gone, and the room was shrouded in a deep blue fog, blotting out all light from the outside. He paced around, looking for any sign of her, but found nothing…_sensed_ nothing.

Footsteps sounded from the fog.

Cal watched in horror as his dead master, Jaro Tapal emerged, his saber hilt in hand with that same determined look the lasat had always bore.

"Padawan," he almost spat, his voice harsh. "It is time for instruction," he declared, before igniting his blue blade.

Cal felt the instinctual reaction to his master's declaration, and without much thought, his master's blade was ignited in his own hand. Tapal advanced slowly, swinging at Cal's guard as he moved to defend himself, fighting off the Jedi Master's strength.

"Your will is weak," Tapal growled. "You lack discipline."

His criticism only fueled Cal's desire for power, wanting to feel that invincibility again, the galaxy in his grip. No inquisitor would ever stand tall against him again, and the Empire would fall, burning as he walked across it. The Jedi let his master feel that power, slamming into his blade with a fierce tenacity that he had never felt before.

"Do you feel this power, Padawan?" he asked, batting Cal away with a powerful swing. "You could not even resist when you felt it, did you? Where is your true strength?!"

Cal roared and thrusted his blade forward, but Tapal made no move to defend himself, and he watched in horror as he plunged his saber into his master's chest.

"Yes," Tapal sneered. "My blood is on your hands, Apprentice!"

Light flashed, and Cal momentarily saw himself clad in black and red armor, his saber adopting a red hue and terrifying hum, before Tapal grabbed ahold of his blade.

"You are a failure, a _weakling_," he continued, while Cal desperately tried to pull his saber free, only to see his inquisitor garbs fully actualize, and his hatred intensify. "A _traitor!_"

He suddenly saw it all again, his clone troops turning on him, chasing him across his own ship. He saw he and Tapal at the escape pod, and how his own men riddled his master with blaster bolts, and only through desperation did they escape, but not in time to save his master. Then, he saw his failure, and now, with his own red blade through the heart of the man who raised him, it was complete.

"_You are no Jedi!_"

"NO!" Cal screamed, and his vision returned to the tomb door, him holding his blade in that same position as he stood aimlessly. Sparks burned his hand as he looked down, and he saw that his grip had crushed the blade…shattering the kyber crystal inside.

His master's saber was destroyed.

Cal trembled. "M-Merrin?" he asked, turning…only to see that she was gone. "Merrin?!"

An electric web shot through the air and enveloped him completely, leaving him to spasm on the ground until his vision faded to black.

* * *

**Vandor, 14 BBY**

**The Lodge**

Xur had given her a few hours to be alone, but eventually he couldn't stand the divide he and Trilla were split between. So, with a breath of confidence, and a brace for the abrasive welcome he expected, he leaned up against the door and knocked.

"Trilla…can I come in?" he asked.

There was no response, but he could sense her presence still inside…followed by an unsettling noise of something falling to the ground. Concerned, he forced the door open, and was greeted to the sight of Trilla swaying on the floor, trying her hardest to keep herself up, only to keep going too far to one side and be forced to stop herself.

"_Cal Kestissssss_," she sneered, her speech slurred beyond belief, looking as if her common perception was all but destroyed. "Found you…at last."

"Ah…_fuck_," Xur groaned, seeing the bottle of liquor still in her hand.

"Oh yes, curse _all_ you…" a hiccup interrupted her sermon. "…all you wish, Padawan."

Xur knelt, pulling her head to look him in the eye. "Hey, it's _me_," he said, waving his hand in front of her face to draw her attention. She only giggled, waving her own hand in his face. "Ope…_okay_."

Trilla raised the bottle. "Wait a minute…you don't look like…the Padawan."

Xur pulled it from her grip before she could take another drink. "Trilla, just…give me that, _please_," he urged, and as much as she fought him, her grip was very weak. Looking at the half-empty bottle in shock, he set it down as far from her as he could. "You drank _all_ of that?"

"_Yuuup_," she answered, smacking her lips together on the "p". "It tried to flee from me, but I said, '_Going somewhere?_'," she imitated her own sinister voice. "I named him Cal Kestis."

"I know, Trilla," Xur groaned. "Look, we need to get you out of here. Preferably away from any more alcohol, hun."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out his face. "Weren't we…_fighting_ about something? I…I can't even remember."

Xur's eyes paced away. "Uhhh…_no?_"

Her hazed eyes scanned him, before she giggled again, wrapping him in her arms. "My little Jedi…you're so…_ugh_," she pushed up against him. "You're so _firm_."

"Trilla…" he chuckled, trying to ease her off of him. "You're drunk."

"No…_you're_ drunk," she pouted, refusing to let him go. "And _sexy_. By the Force…I need you ins-."

"Trilla!" he shouted, forcing her off him with a shove, frustrated. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why the fuck would you do this to yourself?!"

She looked at him with a stunned gaze as she remained in his fierce grip, and then he saw her gurgle. Moving quickly, he grasped the durasteel mass-produced trash bin beside him and put it beneath her as she vomited profusely, leaving him to simply rub her back as she let it out, doing his best to keep her hair back. Grimacing to himself, he knew he should've never yelled at her…but there was nothing he could do about it now.

While she spat out the remains, and then went into another bout, he patted her back in comfort. "I'm sorry, Trilla…I should've talked to you about that before bringing it up. We only just got together after all…and it's my fault for trying to rush you back so quickly."

Her vomiting seemed to end soon after, and after the final purge of the vile taste, she sobbed. Xur had no hesitation pulling her close, letting her tears soak his garments.

"I'm…I'm broken, Xur…" she admitted. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

He sighed, resting his chin on her head as he rocked her back and forth. "I know who you are."

Trilla looked up, her eyes soaked, and makeup ruined.

"You're Trilla Suduri," he answered. "You were once a Jedi, and even once an Inquisitor…but now…you're something more."

"More?" she questioned. "I'm spending my days either crying or shivering in fear, asking the galaxy what my purpose is, and all I hear is _silence_."

Trilla shivered in his arms, burying her head in his chest again.

"Good."

She almost scoffed in her tarnished state. "_Good?_"

"Silence is _golden_, Trilla," he answered. "That means it's up to you. If you spend your life expecting some higher power to tell you who you are, you'll be standing in one place until you wither away."

She sniffled.

"You didn't get here just by following some _plan_," he explained. "You broke off; forged your own destiny…now you just have to write the story."

"You don't get it…" she whimpered. "Every night it's a new voice…whispers in my soul, fingers at my spine…the consistent breathing…his _laugh_…"

It broke his heart, simply because he had no idea how to make it better. Her mind was constantly tormented by those who had harmed her…who had _broken_ her, and in her mind, they were always there, always watching…laughing at her attempts at freedom. All he could do was be there for her, every time, everywhere, and he knew, one day she might just break away.

"You don't have to face them alone," he promised. "Not anymore. I'll always be there for you. Next time you face these things, know that you're not alone…you never were."

Trilla gripped him tightly, her tears fading as she took deep breaths of calm. He took his chance to wipe her face clean and pull her hair back. "You see them again, you give them _hell_," he encouraged. "Show them what you've become and make them regret _ever_ thinking they could control you."

Her eyes shut, and with a deep inhale and heavy exhale, she opened again, and he saw that same fierce expression that had defined her.

He smirked. "That's my g-."

An object flew through the window and exploded, blinding their senses with a harsh flashbang, and before either of them could react, they were caught in an electric web, both screaming in pain until they blacked out.

Through the window clambered an armored bounty hunter, slinging the web caster over his back as he looked down upon his catch. "Heh. Twats never saw it coming."

It was time to put on a show.

* * *

**Little shorter this time, but next chapter is going to be a big one! The light at the end of the tunnel is approaching…**

**Next chapter: **

"**Hey, I recognize this band…"**


	22. Black Thunder - Part I

**CHAPTER 18**

Black Thunder  
Part I

"Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?"

**Ordo Eris, 14 BBY**

**Haxion Brood Lair**

Cal tried to open his mouth, only to find constant pain as she lifted his cheek from the filthy, durasteel floor. Immediately spitting as an unknown and vile taste ravaged his tongue, he held back a vomit as his senses fully actualized. The room was dark, smelled of rotting flesh, and with a quick look he realized it was a cell. His mind drifted, trying to recall how he had ended up wherever it is he was…to no avail.

"BD?" he rasped, his voice returning as it struggled up his dry throat. Quickly he noticed that his droid companion was not on his back, and _that_ sparked his focus. "BD?" he called again, louder. "Little buddy?"

"Your droid is gone, Padawan."

His eyes bulged, pupils narrowed, and Cal's head whipped to the sound of a voice he knew all too well. Sitting at the other end of the cell was Trilla Suduri, dressed differently than he could remember, but he could care less. Her face was plenty to prod his already unstable mental position.

Cal sprinted forward and leapt out like a madman, only to see Trilla quickly roll away from his attack and deftly flip to her feet, fists raised. Scrambling forward, he roared, swinging at her with his lesser martial skill, only to watch her block both blows and plant her boot into his chest, knocking him onto his rear.

"Not anything special without your blade, are you?" she noted, looking down upon him with a frustrated gaze, which was a change in pace from the downwards condescension.

"What did you do?!" Cal growled, leaping into her chest, his tackle enough to take her down. They clawed at each other with vicious tenacity, until Cal managed to wrap his hands around her neck. "Where's BD?!" he screamed. "Where's MERRIN?!"

Trilla roared and pushed him from atop her with both arms outstretched, the Force attack enough to slam his back into the wall of the cell. Enraged by his attack, she jumped forward and pinned him down, forearm over his neck and other fist raised, putting enough pressure to make him gag.

"If I wanted you dead, Padawan, you _would be_," she seethed while he struggled. "I'm a prisoner, like you."

Cal shook his head, almost gasping for air. "Liar…"

Trilla snorted. "If you wish to test me, I will gladly beat the truth into you!"

"Of course you would," he growled, and Trilla looked stunned by his sudden dark response. "Because that's all you are: a murderer…a hate-filled murderer!"

"What do you know?!" she nigh screamed in response, his hatred only fueling her own as she pressed up against his neck even harder. "Think, Padawan…I know it's difficult for you. Why would I capture you, then lock myself in your cell with no weapons?"

Cal managed to scoff without proper airflow to his lungs. "Who knows? You're demented and insane. Last time I saw you, you chased me across an entire planet, your eyes blazing with uncontrollable hatred."

Trilla paused for a moment, her eyes turning yellower by the minute, and she seemed to realize something as she continued to hold him down, her strength plenty so. "Such hatred…" she noticed. "Did Cere finally crack, just as I said she would?"

This time, he roared, and suddenly had enough strength to free himself, his shove enough to make her stumble backwards as she defended herself against his next attack flurry. "I've had enough of your lies!"

All he saw was red, and his control was a foregone conclusion, eventually coming full circle when Trilla finally clobbered him in the jaw, enough for his vision to blur, and him to collapse. He held his mouth as the pain worked its way across his face, and he heard Trilla spit.

"You're pathetic," she growled. "You've _already_ cracked."

He breathed, and finally here words made it through to him. His memories slowly returned from Dathomir, watching Order 66 once again, facing his master…his _lightsaber_.

And the power he could not resist.

Cal massaged his bone and let his head droop. "You're right…I failed. My master was right…I'm no Jedi. I don't even know what I am."

Trilla's fists were still clenched, and truth be told, she wanted nothing more than continue to beat down on him, but there would be nothing to gain from such cruelty…and she was beyond those foul impulses. What truly made her pause, however, was his recitation of her exact words, the same she had said to Xur before their…unfortunate turn of events.

She sighed, falling to her rear in a heap and opening her palms. "Neither do I."

Her former prey looked up to her, surprised by her response, but pieced it together in his head. "The Ninth Sister said you were kicked out."

Trilla scoffed in amusement, letting her head fall back as she worked out kinks in her neck. "Oh? That's an oversimplification, and honestly, not very truthful."

"Yeah?" Cal then flicked his head. "Well, judging by that patch job on your suit, I'd say you and the Empire are having some issues."

She chuckled. "How uncharacteristically perceptive of you. While I do not have the years for you to possibly understand what has transpired since Zakuul, I can assure you that the Empire and I are _finished_."

Trilla felt raw euphoria just from saying that.

Cal scoffed. "Well then, _that's_ interesting. Cere would be-."

"She and I, _however_," she growled. "Are a different matter."

"Right, right. I was just saying-."

"And I make _no_ apologies," Trilla made clear, her eyes stern and final. "For _anything_. Not for those I've killed, not for the words I've said…_nothing_. Don't ask."

The red-haired Jedi sighed, sitting up straight as his jaw finally stopped throbbing. "Not even for Prauf?"

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Who?"

"Abednedo, bout this tall," he gestured. "_We're all just expendable_."

Trilla almost laughed, and his brow slanted with a lack of amusement. "If I didn't kill him, someone else would've shot him anyhow. As I've made clear, _Padawan_, I make no apologies. I did what I had to do to survive."

"Why do you always have to call me _Padawan_?" he asked.

She gave him an expression as if it was obvious. "It's what you are."

Cal scoffed. "I see…I guess I'll start calling _you_ Padawan too."

"Shall we return to when I had your neck beneath my arm?" she reminded him in warning. "Padawan?"

He gulped. "No thanks."

A blanket of silence covered the two of them, and Cal was hesitant to continue speaking with her, still shaking off the fact that she still had the face of the Second Sister in his eyes. Trilla stayed quiet merely because she didn't want to speak to him much at all.

His curiosity broke it. "So what happened?"

Trilla mulled staying silent, but eventually looked away, realizing they had nothing but time in their cell.

"Xur. Xur happened."

* * *

_Do not allow your personal feelings to jeopardize your destiny!_

_ You said it yourself, I can beat the Sith!_

_ You can't beat him! You can't-_

Xur jolted awake, and instantly his vision was filled with green, a blinding hue that consumed everything he could perceive. With a stunned motion, he tried to bat it away, and when he rolled to one side, he was freed of that light, until his head slammed into durasteel.

"_Gah!_ Fuck!" he cursed, holding his head. "The hell?"

"You are awake."

Xur turned towards the voice, and instantly he scrambled away from what he saw, an undeniable terror gasping hold of him.

Merrin couldn't understand why this man was suddenly afraid of her, especially when she had been trying to heal him as best she could. He was a nightbrother after all…she was only doing her duty.

"Easy, brother," she eased, trying to approach, only to see him clench his fists and rise to his feet in a confrontational manner.

"Back off, witch!" he warned. "Get the hell away from me!"

Xur was deadly serious with his threat. The last time he saw a nightsister, he had never stopped hearing whispers until he was many parsecs away from Dathomir, and a few weeks had gone by. They had tried to own him once, and he vowed to never let them near him again.

She tried to look innocent, but it only made him even more wary. "I am a nightsister, not a witch," she corrected. "Your fear is unnecessary. I was only trying to help."

"Yeah? Well you can help me by staying as far away from me as you can," he pointed. "I've seen what you do to guys like me…so you take your green shit and keep it to yourself."

Merrin narrowed her eyes. "It is not green…_shit_," she tried to pronounce the word she had never heard of. "It is magik."

"I don't care _what_ you call it. I'd better not see it, or I swear, I'll…" he trailed off as his memory clicked into place, and suddenly more important questions came to mind. "Where the hell are we?"

"A prison of some kind," Merrin answered, respectfully keeping her distance for now. "I do not know where."

Xur took a chance to walk to the bars of their cell, but even with a quick survey, this place was unlike anything he had seen. It seemed to be carved out of a rock face, but on closer inspection of the stone walls, he recognized that this was most likely space rock…which meant they were trapped in some prison outfitted on an asteroid. Those had been common for criminals of high crimes during the Republic, but now it was just standard for the Empire.

But this was certainly not an imperial prison.

Then another question sparked into his mind.

"Trilla…" he trailed off. "Oh, _shit_."

"Who is…_Trilla?_" Merrin asked, standing at the other end of the cell.

"None of your damn business, that's who," he snapped, looking around for a possible way out of his cell. He could try to blow through the door with a simple force push, but he wasn't sure how secure the bottom clamps were, and he'd rather not cause a loud scene, letting everyone know he was out.

"Well…my name is Merrin," she continued, a sarcastic edge to her voice. "Not like it mattered to you."

Xur appreciated her sarcasm, admittedly, and truth be told, she hadn't done anything to prove she was a threat…aside from his abrasive preconceptions. She could be trying to gain his trust just to sell him out, but that felt needlessly pessimistic.

And it was obvious that she was younger than he.

"Xur," he finally answered. "I'm not a nightbrother, though."

Merrin seemed to appreciate him opening up, which momentarily upped his guard. "I figured as much. You do not have the birth tattoos, and your clothing does not reflect their culture."

"Sorry. I wasn't privileged enough to receive them," Xur explained with an edge to his voice, pulling at the bars to test their strength, only to see they were plenty dug in to hold him at bay. "Instead I'm a prisoner in some rusted-over dump with no way out."

"Oh, nonsense," Merrin crossed her arms. "I could leave here any time I wished."

Xur scoffed. "What are you waiting for then?"

"You, of course. Now that you have confirmed you are not a nightbrother, I know that you must be the Jedi Xur Eon."

He froze, his head slowly turning as he gave up on the bars. "And you figured that out…_how?_"

"Well-."

"Actually, don't even answer that," Xur cut her off. "I don't want to know what kind of fucked up shit you did to my head."

Merrin felt her annoyance bristle with his rude interruptions and blatant disrespect for her, and with her frustration of their capture, she snapped.

"_I did nothing to you!_" she shouted, her voice doubled over, and Xur backed up against the door like a scared pup, trying to slip through the bars. When she realized what she had done, she backed off, calming herself. "Sorry…I didn't mean to…"

"No, no," Xur shook his head, forcing a smile while sweat poured over his face. "It's fine…_totally_ fine."

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Why is it that you Jedi always become nervous when I am present?"

Xur cleared his throat, stepping from the door and reasserting himself. "I don't know…what you mean. You've met another Jedi?"

She nodded. "Yes, he spoke of you. His name is Cal Kes-."

"Cal _Kestis?!_" he cut her off. "He's here?!"

Merrin almost growled, and Xur backed off again. "That is what I was trying to say. I was trying to nurse you back to health, but instead you have continuously berated me for no warranted reason."

Xur grimaced to himself.

_Nice job, dickhead. This young lady has done nothing but try to help you, and yet you've written her off simply by what she looks like. What a man you are._

He ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry…Merrin. I just…you know…"

She cocked her head to one side, very Trilla-esque. "Didn't know?"

Xur tried his best to break the awkwardness, but really found no words that could do the trick. "Yeah, you know what? How about we get out of here and uh…find our friends?"

"If you are done being abrasive, then yes," Merrin smirked.

The zabrak rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure. You said you could get out any time…"

Merrin disappeared before his eyes, and he jerked his head back and forth with extreme discomfort as she left his vision, but before long, he heard a manifesting sound, and the cell door opened. He stepped through slowly, looking down each hall, before seeing Merrin standing by the control panel.

"Neat trick," he noted.

"Thank you."

Xur scratched his head, feeling somewhat embarrassed that he'd had his hand held most of the way so far. "So, I was thinking maybe we should start this way," he pointed down the tarnished hallway, as opposed to the opposite one heading in the other direction. "Or maybe-."

"I will find them," she said, and then disappeared once again.

"Hey, Mer-…ah whatever," he sighed, beginning his own search, probing the Force for that specific signature.

* * *

"I can't even…_wow_," Cal gasped once Trilla finished her retelling of everything since Zakuul…all the parts she wanted him to know. It was admittedly refreshing to get that tumultuous time off her chest, even if it was towards someone she didn't particularly like. Her life had been completely reshaped in such a short time, that not even she could believe herself as she explained it. "Dare I say that's…empowering."

"You are too kind, Padawan," she rolled her eyes, fed up with revealing things to him, as well as sitting in her cell. "My question is why we are not bound in these cells," she noted, looking down to her wrists. "I certainly would not leave prisoners so…open."

"I'll bet," Cal popped his brow, rising to his feet. "There's got to be something here…"

"You're wasting your time," she huffed. "I've already checked the area. You won't find anything."

"Ah, well," Cal grunted as he pulled off a nearby durasteel panel in the wall, finding nothing behind. "Judging by your lack of success in catching me, I'm not sure why you're surprised," he mocked, dropping the panel to the ground and moving to another.

"If Xur had not intervened, it would've only been a matter of time," she sneered his way. "You were crafty, I will grant you, but Cere was your weak link. It would've backfired when you needed it most."

"And your arrogance would've had the better of you," Cal retorted, dropping another panel.

Trilla did not bite back. She merely stared through the bars and recalled that fateful day on Zeffo…seeing Xur's face for the first time again and remembering where her mind had been before it all came crashing down.

She _smiled_, giggling for a moment. "Perhaps."

As Cal shook off her unexpected and somewhat chilling response, he finally found a panel with a power console, and began to pull and pry at it using his previous knowledge as a scrapper.

"Tell me, Padawan," she continued to question him. "When you saw me for the first time…what did you think?"

Cal scoffed. "You mean before you killed Prauf?"

Trilla said nothing, merely waiting for him to answer.

He shrugged, accepting her previous standpoint, while pulling some small tools from his belt to gain access to the circuit. "Honestly, I was pretty sure you were forty years old."

She rolled her eyes, as she was only 25. "I see why you have remained single all this time…unless of course…" she trailed off, and her sinister questioning gave Cal a slight shiver down his spine. "…this _Merrin_…you shouted her name while you attempted to kill me. Who is she?"

He hesitated, eventually electing to focus on his work. "That's none of your business."

Trilla giggled. "Oh? Padawan, your sabacc face is _dreadful_."

The red-haired Jedi ignored her again, trying to connect his rod to both ends of the exposed conduit, only to fail getting it to conduct.

"Do you know how to do it?"

Cal growled, knowing she was _not_ referring to his current task. "Of course I know how to do it."

Trilla spat as she began laughing, reminding him of that same one he had heard when HK had refused to kill her. "This is but one reason I refer to you as _Padawan_. You are still just a boy, pretending to be a man," she mocked, and he kept to himself, failing to hide his growing frustration. "Tell me, _boy_. Has a woman ever touched you before?"

"Yes, Trilla, a woman has touched me before," he snapped, grimacing as a spark ignited his thumb for a moment.

She cocked her head, a mocking smile working its way across her face. "No…I mean…_touched_ you."

He said nothing, his annoyance building.

"Let me tell you…there is nothing better," she giggled to herself, smiling in blissful memory. "When you are with another…and especially when he's *ugh* built like a-."

"I get it," he cut her off. "How about you help me get us out of here?"

"Because I make observations while you stumble from debacle to debacle," she retorted in condescension. "Look around, Padawan," she twirled her finger, grabbing Cal's attention to do as directed. "Ask yourself. Why would a cell have panels in the first place?"

Cal looked around, dumbfounded. "I was wondering that myself, actually."

"Then I will spare you another bout of aimlessly searching for something I've already found. These cells have panels because they're built to hold animals…_not_ sentient beings," she explained, rising to her feet and reaching behind the panel her back had rested on. "Also, the fact that we are not bound, and the cell is not ray shielded," she continued, and Cal watched the door open as Trilla punched in the hidden button behind the panel. "They _want_ us to escape, Padawan."

"Huh? Why would they want us to escape?" Cal asked.

"A number of reasons are possible," she deducted, searching her gloves for any grime. "I believe these are either pirates or some kind of mercenary band."

Cal walked through the cell door, glancing both ways. "Well I could've figured _that_ out."

"_Could've_, the operative word," Trilla dusted off her hands, walking past him and down the hall to their right.

"Wait! Shouldn't we be more careful?"

Trilla stopped, her head only gracing him with one eye as she turned her neck. "Have you not heard a _word_ I've said?"

Cal grit his teeth, his annoyance with her at the breaking point. "Okay, you know what? I'm sick of this. If you're going to keep being a bitch, you're on your-."

Trilla was on top of him within a blink of an eye, strangling him with a crazed look on her face. "Do not…call me…_that_," she growled, watching him gag. "I've had enough presumptuous men call me a _bitch_ to last me a lifetime. Call me that again, and I _will_ kill you!"

"Let him go!" another voice came in, and Trilla watched a figure manifest from nothing and fling her across the hall with an unseen force, rolling end over end until she managed to handstand and flip back to her feet. Standing beside Cal was a pale-skinned woman to which Trilla identified as a dathomiri nightsister, holding her glowing hand out in warning. "You will not harm him."

Trilla roared and fazed forward again, only to feel her legs and arms lock together in a bind, crashing to the ground in a heap.

"What…_is_ this?!" she pulled at the binds, finding no give. As sudden as they appeared, panic set in, and the more she tried to struggle, the tighter they became. Her mind fell into a trance, the terrifying noises came back, the screams…the _helplessness_. "Let me _GO!_" she screamed in an anguished cry.

Merrin closed her fist. "Not a chance, Imperial scum."

Cal's eyes widened. "Wait, no!"

Another roar echoed through the hall, and a tidal wave of force energy crashed into both Merrin and Cal, feeling as if they had been hit by a full speed mag-lev train. They tumbled and landed roughly, looking to see Xur sprinting down the hall. While Cal fully expected him to attack, he stopped short at Trilla, who had been freed, and was now breathing heavy breaths of recuperation.

"Trilla…Trilla, it's alright!" he called to her, taking a knee. "You're safe."

She fought off hyperventilation, letting her mind set into reality and accept that she was _not_ back in that chair. She was here…with him, and when she looked up and saw his blue eyes, her panic faded.

But she remembered something else.

Xur helped her to her feet while Merrin and Cal did the same for themselves, and they watched Trilla's hand collide into his cheek.

"_Ow!_" Xur protested, holding his face. "What the _fuck?!_"

"We _were_ fighting about something!"

Xur scoffed, rubbing his skin. "Now? We're doing this _now?!_"

Her teeth were grit, pointing with a stern finger. "Do not…_ever_…lie to me again."

"Oh, like you've never lied to me before!"

While Trilla and Xur's shouting match ensued, Cal helped Merrin to her feet, noticing a streak of blood running along the side of her face. "Merrin…your forehead."

"It's fine," she shook off, placing her hand over the cut skin, only to discover the blood that covered her hand. "Oh…still, I've had worse."

"You sure?" Cal asked.

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes now focused on the couple whose voices were only rising higher and higher. "I have a feeling this is normal for them. Two very distinct personalities."

"You can say that again."

Trilla gave Xur the cold shoulder, not gracing him with her gaze. "…oh believe me, I know you're far beyond giving a shit."

"That's bullshit, and you know it!" he reared forward, demanding her attention. "I don't do these things because I'm against you! I'm only trying to help!"

"I can't have your help if I can't have your _trust!_" she whirled back to face him. "I _know_ you still don't trust me!"

"Fuck that! Of course I trust you!"

Cal stepped forward. "Hey, can you guys-."

"Stay out of this!" they both shouted in unison, and continued to berate each other, leaving Cal to only sigh as he looked on. In a swift motion, Merrin marched to his side, and he spotted her eyes glow green.

"_Quiet!_" she shouted in a terrifying bellow, bringing their argument to an abrupt halt, while Merrin let her magik dissipate. "Thank you. Shouldn't we be more concerned with escaping this place?"

Trilla looked visibly upset, but Cal was glad they had finally stopped their screaming. It wasn't really anything new, especially with what happened on Zeffo, but in this manner was slightly confusing…and odd. There was no malintent behind any of their words, just frustration with the other over something that seemed miniscule in the grand scheme, which honestly was a nice change of pace compared to the constant death threats.

Yet he was still waiting to see Trilla smile without a sadistic edge, which worried him if Cere ever crossed her path. That was an issue that he would rather avoid…since it would likely result in his blade being raised against Xur's.

"Trilla, please," the zabrak almost begged, which was a new sight for Cal. "I'm sorry."

Trilla clenched her fist, visually searching for a reason to stay upset with him, but eventually her expression broke, and Cal could sense the embarrassment within her. He chalked it up to her not wishing to display weakness in front of the Jedi…or maybe her idea of weakness had shifted, based on what she had told him.

She sighed, stepping forward and pulling him in for a hug. "It's alright. Sorry I slapped you…again."

Xur returned it, pressing up against her back to instill comfort within his partner. "Ah, no big deal. I think that side of my face is numb to it anyhow."

She scoffed and giggled. "You are such a fucking cunt."

Cal looked over to Merrin, who was watching the exchange with an intrigued look, as if she was attempting to understand what she saw. Dumbfounded and confused, she eventually met his gaze. "Where is your droid?"

His eyes widened. _BD…how could I forget?_

"We need to find him," he insisted, already preparing to start looking. "Any ideas?"

Merrin shrugged. "I thought I spotted a droid heap that way," she pointed towards Trilla and Xur, who were finally pulling away.

"Droid _heap?_"

She awkwardly pulled back, scratching the back of her neck momentarily. "I'm…I'm sure he's alright."

"He'd better," Cal growled, turning to Xur and Trilla. "We'd better move."

"Forget the droid," Trilla insisted. "I need my weapon, and to kill whoever dared to trap me in this place."

"No, we need BD," Xur agreed with Cal. "That droid's memory banks are the only link to-."

"Finding the Jedi holocron, yes I know this," Trilla finished for him. "We'll get it after we find our weapons."

"My lightsaber, it's…" Cal trailed off, realizing the embarrassment of it. "…well it's broken. Finding it before BD wouldn't do me any good, besides, he has healing stims, and Merrin is hurt."

"I'm _fine_," the nightsister insisted. "But I believe you are both right. I think we should split up. You two get your weapons, and we will get his droid."

Trilla scoffed. "When you two get captured again, you're on your own."

"I thought you said they wanted us to escape," Cal reminded her.

"Huh?" Xur asked, looking to her. "Why the hell would they want that?"

"Still working on that," she answered.

"Well, until you figure that out, I think Merrin's right," Xur agreed. "We should split up."

"What about communication?" Cal brought up. "Assuming we find a ride out of here."

"Eon here is a zabrak. I have a natural affinity at sensing him," Merrin said, drawing an uncomfortable stare from Xur, to which Trilla met with her arms crossed, animosity building.

"Hm. Isn't that interesting?" Trilla huffed.

"Don't start getting jealous," Xur joked.

"I am not!"

"Okay, that sounds great!" Cal interrupted, marching through the two of them and dragging Merrin along with him. "Come on, let's go find BD."

"Um, yes," Merrin accepted, trying to keep up. "Uh, good luck, you two."

"Thanks," Xur nodded, watching the two of them go. Once they were out of sight, he felt a fist pound into his shoulder, to which he reacted harshly. "Dammit, stop fuckin' hitting me!" he protested to Trilla, who had her arms crossed.

"What took you so long?!"

"Do you have any idea how abusive you are?" Xur was genuinely upset this time, fed up with her constant physical attacks. "There are better ways to get your point across than beating the fuckin shit out of me! I thought you'd have figured that out by now."

Trilla's expression softened, and he figured that was only because Cal was out of their sight, filled with some useless idea that she had to still project her own dominance over him. "I've been captured enough…I'm not sure how many more chains I'm willing to endure."

Xur stepped forward, taking her hands into his. "Look, we're going to find these people, and we're going to fuck em up…just like old times. Deal?"

Trilla's confidence spiked, and she smirked. "Like old times, then."

* * *

Effa was in a _very_ good mood. What a time it was to finally be alive…and to fill her ears with the agony of others. The alien in her grasp sufficed well, as the burning blade searing through his thigh let out a smell of charred flesh, one that made her lick her lips in pleasure. Her previous playmate was already dead, sprawled out on the floor in the "lobby" that the Haxion Brood had made her wait in. Needing something to pass the time, the two slimeball alien bounty hunters who tried to infatuate her served nicely.

Her two scary-looking purge trooper boy toys just stood and watched as she sat with one leg over the other, letting her blade burn his leg as she flipped her bangs out of her eyes.

Her victim screamed in a language she didn't understand, and she shrugged. "Does that mean 'stop'?" she asked, eventually looking to her two armored guards, who shrugged.

"Hell if I know, ma'am," her Commander answered.

Effa's eyes bulged in surprise. "You remembered! Someone here finally treats me like a lady," she smiled and hummed to herself, while the Commander's counterpart nudged him with his elbow in compliment. So joyous with his respect for her, she deactivated her blade, and the alien grasped his leg in shivers of pain. Clipping it back to her belt, she cleared her throat. "Now, my wounded friend…could you _please_ tell your boss that I'm tired of waiting? _Please?_"

Whatever he spoke, he understood her, and crawled away as fast as he could, eventually limping with the help of the side railing, disappearing around the corner. There was no one else in the room, and Effa leaned back into her chair.

Eventually, Not-Commander spoke up. "Did you see that new 74-Z model?"

"Hell yes," the Commander nodded. "Hopefully if we get deployed for recon, they'll kick one my way."

"Always been a 614-AvA girl," Effa inquired. "Z's are too military issue for my taste."

"Ah, _come on_, the speed on the Z though, ma'am. Don't tell me you don't like that," Not-Commander tried to convince her, to which she merely shrugged.

"Girl has her tastes. Third Brother and I ran over some kath hound pups back in the day with an AvA," she reminisced, before giggling. "The mother tried to chase us down, and then we ran her over too!"

Both of them laughed, and Not-Commander said, "That _does_ sound entertaining."

"Ah, sorry about Third Brother, ma'am," Commander apologized. "He was always the funniest."

Effa narrowed her eyes. "And I'm not the funniest?"

They both paused, looking to each other until back to her.

"Ha! Just kidding," she joked. "No, you're right, he was."

Not-Commander grabbed his chest in relief. "Oh…ma'am, you…you really had me there," he chuckled, while the Commander reacted similarly. "Thought you might uh…you know…"

"What? _No_," Effa waved off. "I only cut the balls off the ones who bore me. You two are definitely _not_ that."

They both laughed.

"Although ones that don't laugh at my jokes…usually break each of their fingers…"

Their laughing stopped, and that eerie silence fell over them again.

"Ha!" she pointed. "Got you again!"

Now their laughs were forced, feeling uneasy as she continued to juggle their lives with such ease. Luckily for them, footsteps came from around the corner, and the Haxion Brood boss had finally graced them with his time, followed by his own escort.

"Ah!" Sorc Tormo greeted with false surprise, his umbaran helmet projecting his voice. "Third Sister! If I knew it was you, I would've never dared waste your time. I offer my deepest apologies!"

Effa leaned back in her chair, letting her head turn away in disinterest. "Tormo…your manners are forgettable," she sighed. "And I thought our relationship was so solid…"

The umbaran boss of the Haxion Brood adjusted his trench coat, stepping over the dead body with slight disgust, and offered his pinkie-ring hand for her to take. He was greeted to the quick raising of two rifles from her protectors, as well as the retaliatory response from his own guard.

"Hands away from the Inquisitor, pirate scum," Commander warned.

"Careful now," one of his masked bounty hunter guards warned, brandishing a custom carbine with a vibrosword slung over his back. "Wouldn't want to get blood over your shining black armor."

"Boys, please," Effa insisted. "If he touched me in a way I did not approve of, he would be screaming now, would he not?"

After a moment, they both lowered their weapons, while Not-Commander nodded. "Um…right, of course, ma'am."

Tormo gave the wave for his two guards to lower their weapons, and they complied. "No hands then…I suppose," he half-chuckled. "You are here to inquire about our catch, I suppose?"

"Ah, yes," Effa nodded, rising to her feet. "Three Jedi, you say? I must admit, it is a little far-fetched."

"You're callin' my work _far-fetched?_" that same carbine-wielding bounty hunter reacted. "Got em with a stun web. Those sad twats never had a chance."

Effa cocked her head in a bone-chilling manner, to which Tormo moved in between the two of them. "Ah…you must forgive Three here…he just gets…uptight when others criticize his work."

She smirked, looking past Tormo. "They call you Three? They call me three too!"

"T'was the only word I knew for a while, so the boys stuck with it," he explained. "Empire always fancies their numbers with you inquisitors. I'd say it's just a coincidence, love."

Effa let out a deep giggle, eventually returning her gaze to Tormo. "He seems like a fine specimen…maybe I believe you."

"Oh, wonderful!" he reacted in extravagance. "If you'll please, we should discuss the pricing first."

Effa crossed her arms in disappointment. "Mr. Tormo, hun, we can't go over payment until I see…" she trailed off, her eyes becoming distant, and distinct Force signatures came into her senses. Her heart raced, and the taste of blood sated her tongue as a sadistic grin creeped over her face, eliciting troubled looks from Tormo and his guards.

"Ah…pricing would do _nicely_," she retracted.

* * *

Trilla's sprint slowly came to a stop as her mind was ravaged with a new presence, one that blazed brightly over the cascading vermin of this putrid asteroid, and she felt she might vomit. Instead, her eyes stared aimlessly towards the end of the hallway, and Xur stopped just in front of her, hit with the same trance. Her chin shivered, and she felt a tear well up under her eye, before Xur turned to face her.

"I thought you said she was dead?" he asked.

She had no words. Effa's presence was distinct, and far too vivid to be a falsehood, along with the fact that Xur felt it too. Trilla _wasn't_ losing her mind, but she couldn't deduct how her childhood friend could possibly still be breathing.

"I can't…I don't know…I saw…" she trailed off, wiping the tear from her face. "I saw it with my own eyes…they _killed_ her!"

"You sure? Because that's _her_," Xur insisted. "Same demented shit I felt on Zeffo…in fact it's _worse_."

"Her chest was _split open!_" Trilla panicked. "Her eyes…the blood…" she tried not to break down now, especially not in front of Xur. She vowed to herself to look stronger after their conversation on Vandor, the only issue being that she had interpreted stronger as more _abusive_, which did not sit well with him. Truth be told, she never wanted to see him harmed, or ever have to suffer what she went through, even if it may be possible that he already had, perhaps even more through smaller doses. How he maintained his sanity after struggling with the Dark Side since he was an infant was incredible, while also empowering. If he could rise above it, so could she.

If Effa was still alive, she could face that too…whatever the Empire may have done to her, and she was done letting them control her through fear of suffering or the unknown. She had something to fight for now…a future, and if there was a chance to rewrite Effa into that plan, she should be hopeful, not filled with despair as she had once before.

Xur stepped forward to offer her comfort, but she waved him away, taking deep breaths and focusing her mind. Strength was not in raw power or unsated anger…it was in the power of will…the ability to move on despite what the galaxy had told her was set in stone.

_Now you just have to write the story._

In her story, Effa was alive, and she could learn to see the truth as she had. She could take on the battle for herself…and Trilla could help her win, just as Xur had done for her.

"Trilla…" Xur craned his head. "We really should keep moving."

"Yes," she nodded, sounding more like the strong woman she once was. "Let's move."

* * *

Watching Xur and Trilla hug in such a passionate way was…almost unsettling…in Cal's eyes. He couldn't quite get his preconceived image of her as the Second Sister out of his head, embracing a Jedi he once looked up to in a state of passionate…_love_.

Trilla hadn't made him jealous when she bragged about her…encounters, and his lack thereof. He was just upset that she brought them up in the first place, giving him the unpleasant image of her without any clothing…

Maybe he was a _little_ jealous.

Truth be told, the whole thing was demoralizing, and that was the reason he had snapped at her in the first place. He regretted calling her a bitch, since he really shouldn't be calling _any_ woman a bitch, regardless of the connotation, and letting his anger get the best of him was embarrassing to say the least…not to mention how easily she had been able to knock him on his ass. He knew she had suffered enough bullshit in her time, but even so, she was the catalyst of a lot of his own, so he felt justified in at least not giving her any leeway, especially with her whole "no apologies" standpoint.

_Stop thinking about Trilla…she's not after you anymore._

Having BD-1 back over his shoulder would do a lot to restore some normalcy, assuming the droid hadn't been melted down. Not being able to feel him in the Force was a painful and unfortunate drawback. All he had now was Merrin's assurance that he was okay, which was likely just an attempt to make him feel better, not a truth.

"You worry for him," Merrin noted, trying to keep up with his brisk pace.

"Of course," Cal remarked. "The longer he's alone, the higher chance he'll be gone forever."

Merrin gulped. "Cal…can't you just get a new droid?"

"No, I can't just get a new one!" he whirled around, quickly pulling back in regret for snapping at her. His anger was getting the better of him, and it was becoming more embarrassing the longer he let it control him. "Look…aside from the intel he has; his personality, our dynamic…you can't get that back with just a new droid. He's my friend…" he trailed off, and then had a thought. "He's like what you would consider a sister, to me…_family_."

She cocked her head, intrigued. "There are not any droids on Dathomir…so to consider one living is…strange."

"A lot of people have droid companions," Cal explained, continuing to walk again. "They help make up for the tasks we can't do, or simply they can do faster."

"But doesn't that make you weaker…having to rely on something else?" she asked.

"No," Cal shook his head. "We complement each other. We're not helpless on our own."

Merrin smirked. "Well if that is the case, then you have no reason to worry for BD-1," she answered. "Along with the fact that I have not seen any guards, even when I spirit walk."

"Is that what that's called? Spirit walk?" he asked.

"It is what we call it."

"You said _no_ guards?" he inquired again, stunned by that. "Trilla was right, then. They want us to escape…but why?"

"A good question."

Cal and Merrin came to another junction, and a high-pitched trill gave Cal more joy than he could imagine. Down the hall to their left was a large room with scattered droid parts all across the floor, and on a workbench stood BD-1, held in place by a restraining bolt.

"BD!" he called, running to the work bench, Merrin in tow at her own speed. "I found you!"

Merrin cleared her throat, hands on her hips.

"Sorry…_we_ found you," Cal corrected, pulling another pin tool from his belt. "Let's get that restraining bolt off you."

BD angled his rectangular head downward and watched as Cal pried the bolt from his body, and after a few grunts, it eventually popped off. "Jerks," he remarked. BD jumped and spun around with joy.

_Boop doop deet!_

Merrin giggled from behind while Cal smiled, letting the little droid hop onto his back. "Happy to see you too, buddy."

BD scanned around, eventually noticing Merrin.

_Boooo…deet deet._

She gave him a confused look. "I don't know what he's saying."

Cal only popped his brow. "He said that he's sorry about your head," he pointed, to which Merrin seemed displeased that he brought it up again. Eventually, BD fired a healing stim her way, and she reacted quickly to catch it before it smacked into her chest.

"Cal, I'm fine, I really don't need-."

"Merrin," Cal eased, closing her hands over the stim with his own. Her eyes panned up, unsure how to react to his gesture. "Just take it. It's yours."

She couldn't find the words to respond, and eventually Cal left her to look down upon the green device he had given her. Yes, her head had been ailing her since it had been cut, and without a water source, she had been unable to clean the dried mess that it was. A healing stim wouldn't do much…but the kind gesture…maybe that was the point.

Merrin pocketed the stim for herself.

"BD says there's a lift nearby," Cal informed her as she turned back his direction. "Says it takes us out of the prison level."

Clearing her throat to return to focus, Merrin advanced alongside him. "Let us find this lift, then."

It wasn't far, and there wasn't a door that BD couldn't slice through, and after restoring the power to the rusted-up machine, he and Merrin began the ascent upwards…to the sound of a growing crowd.

"I don't like the sound of that," Cal noted, and BD whined negatively.

Merrin finally regained her footing from the sudden movement of the platform, and her own ears began to pick up the sounds that were being emitted from the floor above. "Is that…music?"

The lift reached the top, and they both saw only one way forward…into a large arena with ray shields protecting the observers above. They slowly paced forward, letting the music with hard percussion instruments sink in, as well as their surroundings.

"Hey…" Cal noticed. "I recognize this band."

A massive hologram projected above, and he gulped.

"Ah! _Finally_ they arrive!"

* * *

**Was going to do this all in one chapter, but then I was like…eh, no need to make you guys wait, since it will probably be another of identical length. Hope you guys liked this one! Was really fun mixing these characters together (especially Cal and Trilla). Very happy to write about Effa again, she's so fuckin crazy!**

**Next chapter is going to be crazy, and maybe a little overwhelming…just a warning.**

**Thanks for reading! See y'all soon.**


	23. Black Thunder - Part II

**CHAPTER 19**

Black Thunder  
Part II

"No victory ever comes without a cost."

**Ordo Eris, 14 BBY**

**Haxion Brood Lair**

"_And who are you?_" the voice of Cal Kestis came through the speaker inside Tormo's private lounge overlooking the arena. Effa could only watch with slight interest, drowning herself in the boss' overly extravagant announcing.

"Who am I?" Tormo asked, his voice projected into the arena while the better's cheered from their observation areas. "Sorc Tormo baby! I'm the boss of this operation! You have Greezy four-arms to thank for this!"

"_I will!_" Cal replied, and Effa spotted the woman beside him, not a part of Tormo's description. "_As soon as we get out of here!_"

Three still had his eyes on her, and Effa only winked his way every now and then, just to get him to shake his head and move his attention elsewhere. Truthfully, her patience was beginning to run thin with Tormo, who had taken most of her time running in circles with their negotiations, when she knew it was only a matter of time until she took the Jedi for herself. Part of her preferred the ladder…since it would result in her pleasure of killing the man in the most creative way she could think of.

"Ma'am," Not-Commander asked, to which she backed up and leaned her ear in. "How are we supposed to get the Jedi if he dies in there? And what about the pale one? She kind of looks like a Jedi."

Effa sighed while Tormo continued his fanfare. "That, my sweet friend, is a nightsister," she explained, cupping the side of his helmet in her grip. "And don't you worry about our little Jedi," she patted him on the shoulder, to which he flinched. "I'm sure someone out there will be coming to the rescue."

Commander cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, ma'am, but who would that be?"

Effa placed her hands on her hips. "How many Jedi did our masked asthma-attack say he had?"

"Three…"

"And how many do you see out there?"

Not Commander looked over her shoulder, before facing her again. "One and a half."

"One, dipshit," she bopped him on the head like a guilty child. "Which means there are two more…but of course this dumbass doesn't know he really only has one _Jedi_."

"I don't uh…catch your meaning…ma'am," Commander noted.

All she gave them was a devious smile that would freeze even the most immune to fear in their tracks and turned back to Tormo.

"…maybe someone get him his toy?" he mocked, giving the signal for Cal's hilt to be returned to him from the stands. Feeling proud of himself, he adjusted his trench coat only to have his smile wiped from his face when his eyes fell upon Effa, standing eerily still before him.

"Tormo, baby, if the Jedi dies…I won't be able to pay you," she explained, her brow arched. "And the Empire…wants him rather badly."

Tormo tried to look sure of himself, but Effa's sinister behavior was getting to him. "Well, Third Sister, you see…"

She held her finger up to his lips. "Well, Tormo, you see if we can't come to an agreement…I'll have to talk to _my_ boss…and when he knows you won't give us the Jedi…" she shrugged, letting him fill in the rest. "Also with the fact that you're holding two fugitives the Empire is _very_ interested in…he may not like what I have to say about you."

"That'd better not be a threat, honey tits," Three warned, his arms crossed, and other bounty hunters situated around the room shifted, preparing to move. Effa and her troopers were outnumbered at least 4 to 1 in here, and she never liked overwhelming odds.

She cocked her head and smirked, backing away. "Not a threat," she assured, tapping a control swiftly and quietly on her wrist, fast enough for no one to notice. "Just…making sure everyone is aware of the _stakes_."

Everyone settled back in as she took her position back with her troopers, and Tormo smiled. "Illustrious Sister, I assure you…everyone will get what they want today."

* * *

This wasn't the first time Merrin had seen an arena. The dathomiri nightbrothers used them for sport and rites of passages, and sometimes for even more archaic purposes. She herself was never one for watching people beat each other to death over pride, but a part of her saw the entertainment value, certainly.

This was the first time she had been _in_ one.

It felt as if the crowd's roars themselves were threatening to crush her beneath its bellow, and the area felt much vaster than it probably was. What these pirates had in store for her was really beyond her knowledge…but she could guess. The stench of previous combatants was enough, barely cleaned from the last bout…smells of rotted and charred flesh, as well as uncleaned feces.

Cal's useless hilt fell into his hand from above, tossed from an overlook with the intention of his use, and he only looked at it with regret. He flipped the on switch, just on the off chance that it was still useable, but to no avail.

"I'm sorry, Cal," Merrin gripped his shoulder, and he only sighed, clipping it to his belt. "But it looks like we'll have to find alternative ways to protect ourselves."

"Yeah," Cal grimaced. "Trust only the Force, right?"

She looked at him quizzically.

"Thing my master used to say," he explained, and two central platforms raised, revealing small animals and large bugs he had encountered before. "We'll just have to make do."

Merrin smirked. "Right behind you."

Cal centered himself and looked back up to the observation tower. "You want a show? We'll give you a show!"

The nightsister narrowed her eyes. "I do not know what a…_show_ is."

Cal groaned in embarrassment.

* * *

Trilla growled in annoyance as she gripped the piping above, vaulting herself up the long maintenance shaft. Looking down, there was about a hundred-foot drop to their previous level, but the increased height wasn't what was bothering her. Usually in a structure full of living beings, she could hear various hums of ailments, and now just the presence of life force. It must've slipped past her sight during her tumultuous time finding herself again, but…

That normal chorus had been silenced.

Maybe she had just become better at focusing it, but even when she was focused, she could still hear _something_. Even as the Second Sister, every wound had been gagged, and its annoyance had grown over time, but it was still there. The nightsister's mild but certainly present cut on her forehead had emitted nothing but silence…which worried her.

_Just focus on getting your weapon back. One thing at a time._

Not to mention the fact that Effa was here…and certainly not alone.

Grunting as she reached the next grip, using the Force to replenish her strained arms, she spoke up to Xur, who was making his own climb above. "Do you reckon the Empire knows about me?"

Xur didn't answer right away, sighing as he took a break. "I don't know. If I had to bet, I'd say yes."

Trilla snorted. "Such faith you have."

"Just being realistic, hun," he continued his climb. "You say the Emperor named you? Yeah, they definitely know…or _he_ does, at least. Whether or not he's told them is really up in the air."

"You fooled everyone," she reminded him. "You fooled _me_, and I could've smelled you anywhere."

"_Pfft._ Is that right? Is that why you never found me even when I wasn't posing?"

Trilla shut her eyes, placating her annoyance. "Would you please save your sarcasm for a later time?"

Xur reached the end of his room, not finding another hand hold above. Looking to the parallel wall, he jumped to the other side and grabbed ahold, kicking up loose dirt to fall down the shaft.

"If you say so," he grunted, recommencing his climb. "I had a lot of toys to keep me hidden, and not all of them were strictly speaking tested or _safe_."

Trilla cocked her head in thought, reaching his same position and preparing herself to make the leap. "Well…I guess that would explain a lot. You still never told me why you did it."

Xur stayed silent as he focused on the climb, and Trilla couldn't see more than a few decades of feet left to climb. That question had been ailing her much more than she would admit to him…simply because she knew it wasn't because he knew about her. Trilla _liked_ to believe it was, and perhaps it would be better for her solace for that to remain, but ignorance wouldn't do her any good in the long run.

"After I killed Kaidan, I…" he trailed off in between breaths and heaves. "I was angry. Suddenly all those inquisitors I'd killed…it hit me that there were people under those masks, and one of them was my friend. I didn't know why they had turned, or what the Empire had done to them, but all I knew was that I could stop it, and I felt like my life depended on it.

"I was just going to go in, spend a few weeks, gather some intel, then blow the whole thing up. Of course, that all went to shit when I saw your face…"

Trilla grimaced to herself. The duel where she gave him that scar across his back.

"I couldn't just leave anymore. I told myself a million times to just go through with the plan and be done with it…but every time I saw you caught up in that explosion…and I'd never be able to live with that. To kill you, well…would almost be like killing myself in the process. You know, what's the point of victory if no one's around to see it?"

She had no words for him. She just let him continue.

"For a time it was…I don't want to say easy, but it was _manageable_," he continued. "You really weren't the problem. I could deal with you being a sadist to me…it was just the others part that got to me. I'm sure you remember all the times I grabbed your wrist before you killed someone."

"Not worth the trouble, you said," she recalled. "You were good at your reasoning, that was for sure."

"I felt like part of you knew it was me, deep down…you just didn't want it to be true," he surmised, reaching the top of the shaft and pulling himself up with a heave. "I uh…took advantage of that."

Trilla's eyes paced downwards as she halted her climb in thought. Part of her was sure something hadn't been right, but she wouldn't have gone as far as to say it was _him_.

"If you were softer, I probably would've acted on it," she admitted, accepting his hand as he pulled her over the side. She never let him go as she reclaimed her footing, pulling him in for a sudden kiss, to which he obliged. It was meaningful, intending to instill her gratitude within him for his sacrifice, as well as her affection. "I'm glad I didn't."

"Yeah, me too," he nodded, squeezing her shoulder as he walked down the horizontal maintenance hall. "You'd be dead."

Trilla scoffed, remaining behind him in the enclosed space. "Oh? So sure, are you?"

"Pretty sure."

She didn't have claustrophobia, but Trilla wasn't a fan of the prospect of sliding through the vermin filled cluster of pipes and structural support. Having a skinny frame helped her slip through, but her height wasn't doing her any favors…looking at Xur, however, she could definitely have it worse. His somewhat girthier build hugged the durasteel enclosed around him, and he really had to make do with the metal pressing against his bones.

Loud music began to funnel into her ears.

"What is that?" she asked, hearing the muffled drums and lyrics barely come through the panel Xur was approaching. "Not exactly a pleasing tune."

The zabrak grunted as he pushed past a tight fit, finally reaching the panel. She could sense a large amount of excitement outside, which at least meant it didn't lead to the cold vacuum of space.

"Are you a…slow-paced kind of music consumer?" he asked.

"I'd prefer to say I enjoy beauty in flow," as she explained, she realized she had not heard a pleasing tune in many years…much less engaged in something she used to love to do as a Padawan.

Something she was never able to share with Xur…something she was always too nervous to present to him. Now, it was something she was too nervous to present _herself._

"Ah, I see," Xur merely said, feeling the panel with his gloved hands while Trilla reached the open pocket and knelt beside him. "Ever danced before?"

Trilla blinked once, feeling her head jerk backwards. That was a very interesting and sudden question to be sure, and it took her a moment to actually give him an answer.

"No, not really."

"Me neither," he answered, searching for a hinge, or some way to remove the panel and gain access to the other side. "The Jedi were really a bunch of statues, weren't they?"

Now she was moderately concerned. "What's ailing you? Spill it out, Eon. That's what girlfriends are for."

He smirked. "Girlfriend huh?"

"Xur…"

"Alright, alright," he piped down, dropping his hands from durasteel. "Sometimes I look back at it all and ask myself: Do I really miss anything? I mean, everyone around me was basically a robot…except for you, of course."

Trilla was intrigued by that. "Didn't you call inquisitors robots too? You don't mean to tell me you think-."

"I called them _drones_," Xur corrected. "Important difference. Robots have a chance at free will, drones do not. Drones do what they're told and don't ask any questions. Robots sometimes do what their told, but in the case of Rava, for instance, they can become individual."

Trilla didn't have anything to refute. In hindsight…she really was just a drone back then, taking her orders and fulfilling them, rinse and repeat. If she had no orders, she remained at home base, waiting for new ones. She grimaced, fighting through the trauma that came with revisiting that time, as well as the glossy-eyed flashbacks that came.

Xur's brow arched as he noticed. "Sorry…I didn't mean to-."

"It's fine," Trilla waved it off, squeezing his shoulder in assurance. "The only way to heal it is to face it."

The zabrak nodded, blowing air through his nose as he moved back to the panel. "Couldn't agree more."

With a heave, he pushed it free, landing in a loud heap and stunning the occupants of the viewing suite they happened to barge into. Of various races, and only some of them armed, they seemed to be mostly gamblers, and Xur nodded in greeting as he stepped out.

"Evening, chaps," he smirked. "How's your winnings so far?"

"Who the fuck are you?" one of them asked. "How'd you…"

"Oh this?" he asked, jerking his thumb back as Trilla rose to her full height beside him. "Well we were just uh…" he scratched his head, unsure why he was really dragging this on. "We uh…"

"We were trapped in the refresher," Trilla explained, grabbing his upper arm and wearing an innocent face. "So we crawled up the ducts to get out. My boyfriend here almost suffocated in there."

None of them knew what to say, and Trilla sensed vague hostility, hands twitching towards blasters. Her eyes quickly scanned the room, noticing the windows were ray shielded. With no weapons of their own, however, it could be tricky. She counted eight total against the two of them, perhaps five armed.

"Doesn't that shaft lead to the cell block?" one of them noticed, and the others were _really_ ready to fight now.

Xur sighed. "Well, shit."

Instinct kicked in, and once Trilla and Xur were in the flow…only half a minute passed before there were eight dead gamblers sprawled out onto the floor.

Trilla heaved breaths of refreshment as she pulled her hair from her eyes, wiping blood from her lips after sustaining one punch to her jaw. That man ended up in the ray shield, his skin charred and burned until he finally died. Xur had more blood on his face than she, but he looked much less exhausted.

She smiled blissfully. She hadn't killed someone in quite some time, and she had forgotten the rush it gave her. "Now we have this suite all to ourselves. Maybe we could-."

"Fuck _me_," Xur groaned, prompting Trilla to face him, seeing his eyes fixed on the arena through the ray shield. Looking on her own, what she saw eventually resulted in her own hysterical laughter.

* * *

Wind roared past Cal's ears as he tumbled through the air, screaming as he did so. "_MERRIN!_" he cried, echoing through the arena. A cushion of energy stopped his fall before he impacted the rocky surface, but the roar of the charging jotaz gave him no comfort. "Shit, shit, _shit!_" he protested, rolling under the beast's powerful and certainly lethal swings.

"Just keep moving, Cal!" Merrin's voice echoed as she was immersed in her magic, finishing off the last of the giant bugs that had emerged from the ground. Chants in speech he couldn't understand persisted from her, while he continued to helplessly distract the giant creature fully intent on killing him.

"Oh, trust me, you don't have to say it…" he ducked under another swing. "twice!"

Not having his lightsaber was a serious problem, and while the smaller creatures could be dispatched with force attacks, the jotaz was proving quite immune to his influence. Merrin was having more success, but her mastery of her magik was certainly beyond his comparative mastery of the Force.

The mocking laughter from the crowd wasn't helping his mood either.

The jotaz bellowed and charged, kicking its legs forward while Cal used the force to enhance his speed, managing to almost faze out of the way, only to be clipped in the leg and knocked to the ground.

"Cal!" Merrin shouted in vain.

"I'm alright!" Cal assured, scrambling back to his feet while BD complained about the current situation. "Just hang on, buddy."

Merrin's chants became lower pitched, and with fierce intensity, she managed to lift the jotaz and hurl it across the arena, smacking into the ray shield and burning its hide. It shrieked in pain but was quickly back on its feet with an enraged snarl.

"Uh…nice, but I think we just pissed it off!"

In between chants, she mustered, "What does that even _mean?_"

Cal groaned as the jotaz charged again. "I'll tell you later!"

As he continued to run in circles with BD barely clinging to him, Merrin upped the ante, delving into her more forbidden craft to defeat a creature of such size and strength.

The intercom sounded. "_Why hasn't he used his lightsaber? Jedi! You think you're too good to show it off?!_"

The red-haired Jedi sprinted at full speed, his exhaustion becoming apparent. "It's _broken!_"

"_Broken?! Ha!_" Tormo joked, and the crowd burst into laughter. "_Some Jedi you are!_"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Cal mumbled, dodging more swings.

He kept it up as best he could, and for a moment, it seemed to be working. Merrin tried trapping it in the ground, only to see it dig itself out, hold it down, only to break free, and there was only one last tactic she could think of. Cal couldn't run around forever.

Bringing her fists together, she pulled at the air molecules around the jotaz's head, depriving it of air for as long as she could. It kept up its attack, but eventually it faltered, slowing down as it began to suffocate. Merrin smirked as she felt she had finally discovered a way to save him…until its frantic eyes looked upon her.

The massive beast went into a full and desperate run straight towards her, and Cal watched in horror as she was forced to drop her motion and quickly summon a barrier, only to see it shatter and its feet plow into her chest. She felt a crack in her ribs as she skidded along the ground, her robes tearing against the abrasive surface as pain came with her scream that followed. Her assailant roared as air returned to its lungs, advancing upon her downed body with its fists raised to crush her body without a second thought.

"MERRIN!" Cal shouted.

With a desperate heave, she conjured a barrier that blocked the first barrage, but her pain was so immense that only one more attack would break it. Cal outstretched both hands and unleashed a howling push, grabbing the attention of the jotaz long enough for Merrin to teleport away, only to land in an exhausted heap a short distance away. In the moment, Cal was backhanded like a stray bug and knocked to the ground, the jotaz ready to crush him.

The wall of the arena blew itself open, an explosive charge detonating that deafened Cal and frightened the jotaz long enough for a green blade to ignite. He saw blaster bolts rip through the creature before the green blade severed its arm and stabbed through its abdomen, ending its life.

"_What is this?!_" Tormo gasped while the crowd had a similar reaction.

Cal's vision cleared, and he was greeted to the figure of Cere Junda, her green blade ignited and in hand. "Cere?" he asked. "How'd you get here?"

She smirked, holstering her blaster and offering a hand. "Encrypted transmissions. What'd you think?"

Cal took it, rising to his feet. "Thanks," he said, until realizing that Merrin was still lying out cold. "Dammit, Merrin!" he ran through Cere and across the arena, falling to one knee under the guise of the booing crowd as the music was shut down. She was battered, her skin torn where her robes had shredded. Her body trembled, and Cal could sense her pain blistering in the Force. "Merrin…Merrin, can you hear me?"

All she could do was nod, her face stricken with anguish.

"She's hurt," Cere noted, deactivating her blade and taking a knee. "Looks bad."

_Doooo._

"It's alright," he eased, his attention still on the nightsister. "We're going to fix you up. BD?"

She waved her hand in denial, revealing the stim he had given her before, and wheezed, "Thank…you," before injecting it into herself, and a pleasurable groan of relief followed.

Cal smiled. "No problem. Just…stay here, okay?"

Cere grasped his shoulder. "Cal, we need to get out of here, _now_."

"I know," Cal nodded, as if it was obvious. "I had no plans on staying."

"No, you don't get it," Cere urged his attention, but then noticed something wrong with his hilt. "Your master's lightsaber…"

He waved it off. "Too long of a story, and we don't have time. Xur and Trilla-,"

"Trilla?!" Cere gasped. "She's here?"

"Yes, but I have no idea where they are," Cal bit back. "Details. Where's the _Mantis_? How do we get out of here?"

"Cal, the inquisitors are _here_," Cere insisted, just as Merrin was managing to rise.

His eyes widened and felt that pit in his stomach return. "Why? For me?"

"I don't know, but they're coming in force," she insisted. "We need to leave, _now_."

* * *

"No, no, no!" Tormo protested. "What is this?! How did she get past our guards?!"

Effa huffed, watching Cere Junda and Cal Kestis help the nightsister to her feet, feeling the frustration of the unforeseen event rise. Her plan had covered all her bases…even the very likely event that Tormo left her out to dry, but not a completely unseen player on the board. To see Cere alive and well ignited a passionate anger within her that she couldn't describe or manage; the one woman who managed to escape the clutches of the Empire, and still have herself to take with her.

_Why was she so special?_

She grimaced, fighting off the secondary voice. After intensive treatment, and no shortage of medication, her dissociative identity had finally placated itself, but she knew if she let her own mind echo, her consciousness would follow.

The inquisitor engaged her hunter instincts, sharpening her focus and tightening her sadist bravado. Anakin…_Darth Vader_ would not be pleased if she let Cal escape once again, and she'd be damned if she ever let herself fail as horribly as Trilla had.

"What a sad state of affairs, Tormo," she sneered, and the crime boss only bared his teeth through his mask. "It looks like one of us isn't getting what they want."

"Is that so?" he asked, flicking his wrist, and every bounty hunter raised their blaster. "And just who are you referring to?"

Effa sighed, rolling her neck out before trading her smile for a fierce, horrid expression. "Why you, of course."

_Snap-hiss._

Blaster bolts ripped through the air as he crimson blades spun around her, the mechanism screaming at full power as she twirled it around herself, reaching out and lifting two of them by the neck before closing her fist, their necks snapping in a sickening _crack_. Both of her escorts knew what to do, engaging with extreme prejudice as they took cover behind furniture. Effa maintained her defense, batting away and bisecting one fool who charged her, advancing towards Tormo who merely backed up against the corner of his lounge.

Her purge troopers were far superior to the bounty hunters protecting him, and as more of them were gunned down, others decided it may be in their interest to flee, instead of throwing their lives away against an enemy they could never beat. Effa ended the spin as the last one fled, pulling him into a choke hold at her leisure. Slowly closing her fist, she relished in his gasping breaths, turning his body to see the fear in his eyes as he knew his life was about to end. She instilled that helplessness with a tighter grip, pulling him towards her and impaling his chest with her blade.

The smoldering hole festered in his chest as he flopped onto the floor, Effa keeping her blade ignited as she approached Tormo, her two troopers at each side.

Tormo shivered. "Sister…th-there's no need for this…I can just…_disappear_."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," she growled, her upper lip twitching as she watched Cere and Cal approach the hole she had created, only to see them be halted by Imperial reinforcements that rained down from the stands, pouring into the arena. "You tried to barter traitors to the Empire. We do not negotiate for _those_."

He looked through the window as Effa directed him to. Cal and Cere backed off, guarding the nightsister in the center of the arena as purge troopers and three inquisitors surrounded them, leaving behind nothing but dead audience in their wake.

"Do you see this?" she pushed him up against the window frame, his helmet almost grazing the ray shield. "This is the price of _treason_, Tormo, and know in your dying moments that you dared to defy us…and you _lost_."

He swallowed. "Azulia…"

"_DO NOT. CALL ME. THAT!_" she shouted, igniting her blade straight through his head, and pushing his limp body to the floor.

Only _one_ could _ever_ use her name again.

Infuriated, she growled. "Get down there and bring me those _fucking_ Jedi."

"Yes ma'am," Commander confirmed, and left her alone with the other.

Effa couldn't place why she had suddenly snapped, but she could only deactivate her blade and hold her head steady, trying to refocus her mind. She hadn't heard her real name spoken to her since…since…

_Trilla._

The door opened as her purge troopers reached it, "Second Sister…!"

Effa's eyes widened.

* * *

Cal's back hit Cere's as they ran out of room, the sounds of clicking blasters deafening as plenty of purge troopers to deal with them enclosed…not to mention_ three_ inquisitors. Merrin was hunched over, holding herself up as the stim continuously healed her, staring daggers into the Imperials that threatened each of their lives.

_Oooo. Oooooooo._

"Just follow my lead, BD," he insisted, trying to instill false confidence in his droid companion, when even he himself had none. Even _with _a lightsaber…this was far too much for them to handle.

"Cal Kestis and Cere Junda," the masked female enunciated, her blade ignited. "You've crawled out of hiding…_at last_."

Cal grimaced. "Well…got any bright ideas?"

Cere didn't look too thrilled, but not entirely surprised by the turn of events either. Reaching into her back pouch, she revealed a durasteel hilt and handed it to Cal. "This'll have to do for now. Take it."

He looked upon it with bewilderment, but took it with haste as their enemies closed in. Instantly he was hit with intense images of the past via his psychometry, but learning from the last time, he forced them away…but not fast enough to witness the original owner of the blade in his hand.

"This was…" he trailed off, igniting the blade and revealing its brilliant yellow blaze, feeling the memories of a once benevolent guardian of the Republic. He felt no words come next, only action, and he held that blade with honor and pride, ready to fight until the bitter end against the forces that had ruined that guardian. Now, there wasn't just survival…there was _justice_.

"Yes," Cere nodded, holding her blade forward as the three inquisitors approached, and Merrin closed her fists into a fighting stance.

"Surrender now, and we may spare the nightsister," the same inquisitor offered. "She looks to be in pain…"

"I'll show you _pain_," Merrin growled. "Imperial _skank_."

"Go to hell," Cere responded with the same tenacity. "I'll send you all there myself."

_Beep! Preeeeeeet!_

Cal smirked at BD's intense response, pointing the golden blade as the Imperials stood firm. "What's the matter? You've got the numbers. Let's go!"

They didn't move, and he chuckled to himself. "Oh…you need me alive," he mocked, and then shrugged. "Well that's too bad for you, I guess."

Every purge trooper shifted, tightening their aim, and the three of them backed up again, out of room. All three inquisitors had their blades drawn, and Cal quieted his mind, listening for that first spark of conflict to set the arena ablaze.

It was but a shift of a toe, and the rolling of dust.

* * *

Effa's two purge troopers dropped dead as their severed heads cracked against the floor, Trilla's terrifying crimson blade cutting through the air like a reaper's scythe. Against her better judgment, Effa did not advance, instead waited, looking upon the face of the woman she had known since she was a child.

"Trilla," she greeted, managing to smile, despite the raging and unexpected rising swell of emotions within her. "You made it."

"Effa," she merely replied, not stowing her blade.

Her counterpart did not have that consuming cape, nor the mask she had always worn, and Effa's memory of what happened after Zeffo was shoddy at best. Not only did Trilla look different, she _felt_ different. There was no probing sinister sneer that guided her expression, nor the intense hatred burning her eyes yellow. Everything about her was…_wrong_.

She was not the one who was permitted to use her name, and her voice projecting the syllables dug up memories that she hadn't necessarily buried but would prefer not to experience them now. Anger spiked within her, but she needed answers…answers as to why Vader wanted Trilla to be eliminated.

Against the wishes of his master.

"Been through hell?" Effa probed, but she knew Trilla was masterful at the strategy she was currently attempting…and her reaction proved that theory.

"Always."

The hum of her blade persisted, and Effa felt her own fist clench, the longer her eyes looked upon her, the angrier she became. "Tell me something."

Trilla stood, her eyes fixed.

"How could you betray me _again?_"

She merely snorted, rolling her eyes, and Effa's annoyance bristled. "Wake up from your fairy tale, Azulia. We haven't been allies for years."

"No?" Effa's head cocked. "Live together, fall together, _die_ together," she listed off on her fingers. "You remember what I told you…the day you _cracked_."

Trilla's grip tightened on her blade. "You're the one who_ died_ without me."

The inquisitor's smile exploded until she erupted into laughter in a fit of madness. "Oh…you should've seen your face. I hadn't seen that expression since your drugs wore off and your face was plastered against a durasteel grate."

Now Trilla's anger was blistering along with hers, stirring up the traumatic memories she had only recently tried to hide away, and Effa pressed the issue. "You remember what you asked me…right?"

Trilla growled, her hand shaking.

"You begged…" Effa continued, and then emulated Trilla's voice at the time. "_Help me_."

She had no time to react, and not even a grace of double vision came in time to stop Trilla from fazing forward and pinning Effa against the control, her free hand wrapped around her neck. The inquisitor gagged as Trilla kept her blade crossed, her expression boiling with hatred as she slowly lowered it, letting the superheated beam burn away at the blonde's shoulder.

As Effa screamed, it was Trilla's turn for mockery. "_Trilla_, why don't you love me anymore," she recited, gritting her teeth as she pushed her blade further into her shoulder. "Beg! Beg me to stop, because I won't!"

The inquisitor embraced the pain Trilla inflicted upon her, welcoming it as an old friend, and felt her resolve solidify. Using the exact arm that she cut into, Effa ignited her blade and pushed off, allowing them to clash in a cross guard.

"I'm going to _kill_ you, Trilla," Effa declared, her expression fierce and numb to the excruciating pain that ravaged her arm. "_Traitor!_"

"You won't even land a mark!" she retorted and broke the lock, engaging in masterful Form II cuts in the tight space. Effa guarded and slid her blade off Trilla's more powerful swings, kicking of Trilla's chest and began her devastating use of Form VI Djem So. They were near equals in skill with their respectful mastery of their forms, but Trilla's connection to the Force would be the deciding factor, a fact that came into play during many of their training duels.

Not today…not after what Effa had been through. Not even death fields would stop her from exacting her revenge, no matter how small it may be.

Trilla's footwork was too impressive to grant Effa an opening, and it resulted in her opponent reaching out and planting her back against the console behind. The brunette roared and slashed downwards, Effa rolling out of the way to watch her blade cut into the controls, rendering them useless as the ray shields were shut down. Using the spin mechanism to force it out quickly, Trilla was able to defend Effa's retaliatory swings, but her bout of rage unbalanced her guard enough for Effa to knock her blade aside and expose her arm, to which she marked her skin.

Unfazed by the hit, Trilla reached out with an intense scream, and her hand sparked with an ill purple…before fading away completely.

"What?!" Trilla gasped, barely blocking in time as Effa forced another saber lock.

Effa laughed. "Something wrong, _Emperor's Wrath?_"

There was a glint in Trilla's eye…a glint of _horror_…of traumatic realization as her power had failed to conjure.

Something _was_ wrong.

"Without your power…you're not match for me now!" Effa sneered.

Trilla's teeth grit, and the entire room reverberated with Force energy.

* * *

"Fire!"

Blue stun rings fired from the blasters of every purge trooper, and Merrin's roar was followed by the green bubble that surrounded and protected them from the first wave. Her chants were coarse, but determined, maintaining the defense despite the condition of her body. The inquisitors slowly advanced, each of them plunging their blade into the energy…pushing it back.

Merrin groaned, falling to one knee as she tried to keep it strong, but the strain was growing exponentially as more blasts persisted. Cere and Cal felt helpless against the onslaught, but held their blades, nonetheless, prepared to live out a final stand.

The ground itself shook as a shockwave erupted from the other side of the arena, knocking nearly a fourth of the troopers off their feet and into the air. Lightning followed, electrocuting and burning anything it touched alive, and Cal spotted a crimson blade cutting down whichever unfortunate soul stood in its way.

Three fireteams of purge troopers killed in the span of a few seconds.

Merrin's shield broke and she collapsed, while Cal and Cere immediately engaged while their enemies were distracted. Pushing the female inquisitor away, Cal took the chance to deflect the stun blasts and advance upon the troopers, utilizing their complacency of their numbers to cut them down without much of a fight, none of them thinking to protect themselves. Cere was just as relentless, her blaster pistol catching them off guard as her hurled saber severed them at the waist, bodies flopping over as groans of death sounded around them.

Whatever was happening behind him, it sounded like armageddon: many final words spoken as bodies hit the floor, the smell of charred flesh already finding its way into his nose, as well as the constant vibration of the ground around him.

Cal was grazed by a stun blast, and he yelled as his elbow went numb, slowing his deflection movements. Resolving with what it was, he pressed the attack, only to be shoved from behind by a powerful force. Tumbling over the ground, he was instantly surrounded, beat down by the butts of rifles as he saw only a blur. Through the chaos he spotted Cere in a similar situation, a massive inquisitor charging her at full speed.

_No._

Pooling the kinetic energy of each battering hit upon him, he repulsed it back upon his assailants, sending them flying in each direction, some hitting the ray shield that protected them from the vacuum of space. Cal picked up his own broken body and snapped his fingers, to which BD granted him a stim. Injecting it and dropping the capsule to the ground, he held the yellow blade at the ready as the inquisitor approached him.

"You're weakening, Jedi," she sneered behind her mask. "This doesn't have to be painful…give up."

Cal took to chance to look behind her, spotting that it was in fact Xur Eon that appeared in the arena, bodies and bodies of purge troopers around him as he advanced upon a nigh-shivering inquisitor at the ready.

"I think I'll take my chances," Cal gripped the blade, holding it in his trademark Form III stance.

Xur was having a much easier time across the way as virtually everyone around him had been killed, aside from the lone inquisitor that had defended against his onslaught. It had been some time since he had the chance for some real action, and to unleash all the new powers he had learned from his mother against the Empire was incredibly satisfying. After all the pain he had not only experienced, but also witnessed at their hands, to slaughter their best troops only felt like repaying a debt.

"Eighth Brother," Xur approached, shaking off his escalating anger and aggression. "Sorry to say this one isn't practice."

The skinny, masked alien slowly backed off, holding his blade at the ready. "Nothing can save you, Eon, no matter how hard you fight. You can't beat us all!"

He kept approaching, watching Cere manage to free herself and disperse some of the troops, while facing the Fifth Brother. Cal was engaged with the Seventh Sister, and he did feel it necessary to intervene…but Merrin was out cold in the middle of the arena, with no one available to assist or capture her.

"I'd like to draw this out, but I'm a little short on time," Xur admitted. "So I'm going to make this quick."

Their duel was short, as the Eighth Brother was no match for his strength and didn't seem to know what to expect from him, ending up plastered into the durasteel wall after a violent throw. Whether he was dead or not was not Xur's concern. Running to Merrin, he knelt and checked for a pulse, relieved to say she was still alive, while _well_ was another matter.

He spotted Cal holding his own with a yellow blade…_Trilla's_ blade and felt the necessity for the switch. Breaking into a run and pushing the Seventh Sister off him, he grabbed Cal's shoulder before he could attack again. "Hey, you take care of Merrin. We need to get out of here now."

"What about Cere?" he protested, but they both witnessed her having little trouble dealing with the larger duelist.

"She's fine, go!" he pushed, and Cal did as he was told, tending to Merrin while Xur faced off against the inquisitor rising back to her feet.

"Why won't you die?!" she growled, her grip tight around her hilt.

"Was never any good at it."

* * *

Trilla's duel with Effa had taken her through the hall from the observation deck, through Tormo's lobby and into a long, dark corridor that lead to the hangar bay, lined with escape pod hatches. Neither of them had been able to land any meaningful marks, and their respective hatred for each other only grew as the continued mockery of their unfortunate situations continued. At first, she had wished to understand how Effa was still alive, but all of that ended when she dared to revisit her trauma suffered at the hands of the Empire. After those words were uttered, she only wished to see her die by her own hand, once and for all.

The duel hadn't been her concern. Trilla had always been better than Effa, even when they were Jedi, and even more so when they became inquisitors. What _frightened_ her was the fact that her death field technique seemed to be nonexistent. She figured it was only because her hatred was not absolute…but after that spark had been snuffed out, she could not even sense it within her.

Not even the wounds of those men had sung to her. That loss had only fueled her hatred, and in the long corridor, she could feel Effa beginning to waver, her blocks becoming less assured, and her attacks pitiful and easy to counter. Sensing the end at hand, she turned it up.

With her teeth grit and intensifying her power, Trilla slashed across and nearly knocked her blade from her grip as she began to hammer down on Effa's guard. Each overhead swing buckled the inquisitor's legs ever further, until eventually one did knock her hilt from her hand, leaving Effa on her knees while Trilla held her blade to her throat.

"It's _over_," Trilla declared. "Give up!"

Effa heaved, visibly exhausted and beaten, not contesting Trilla's motion…only gracing her with hate-filled eyes ravaged with jealousy. "Give up? What is wrong with you?" she huffed. "Have you gone soft?"

Despite the inquisitor's increasingly worsening state of corruption, Trilla glimpsed the face of her old friend, the one who had always been there for her when she needed a shoulder. Even…in its obviously perverse way…when they had fallen, Effa had always tried to be at her side, even when she didn't want her to. Their friendship had been the only thing to truly survive the fall of the Jedi, and to kill that, would be to put an end to what she once was.

The past would die _forever_.

Effa snickered through breaths. "You can't do it…can you? You've gone completely soft."

Trilla growled to herself and lowered her weapon. "There is no power in the ability to take life…true power lies in the strength of will…the strength to resist our worst impulses," she did her best to paraphrase what Xur had preached to her since he had knocked off her mask in the training dojo, and hoped Effa may be able to see it. "Strength you've lost."

She wasn't listening. She was too angry, and it showed on her expression as she seethed. "Why…why do you get what you want?! Why you and not me?!"

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Effa's smile widened as her madness returned, double personality taking back its hold of her. "She doesn't know. She doesn't know," she spoke in third, leaning forward as she whispered to herself. "You should tell her…tell her the _truth_. Why should she have the one she loves, and you not?"

Trilla shook her head, trying to decipher what she mumbled to herself. "But Effa, Anakin is…"

Paralysis gripped Trilla as a cold breeze in the Force kissed her skin, instilling a stark realization that froze her muscles in place. Terror seized her as her chin trembled, unable to step back as distinct footsteps echoed through the corridor, and the only thing she could do was whimper, hyperventilation infecting her lungs.

Through the darkness behind Effa stepped the theme of all her nightmares, his endless breathing always in the back of her mind as his soulless gaze consumed her own. Everything she had ever suffered…everything that ever horrified her…was by his hand.

Darth Vader halted, and Trilla could not even raise her blade.

"Inquisitor…this charade ends _now_."

* * *

Xur pushed Cal in through the hole that Cere created, the Jedi cradling the limp Merrin in his arms as they dodged incoming fire, more purge troopers funneling from the stands as the two inquisitors still up advanced. Cere was last through, and after firing bolts of lightning to ward them off, he roared, bending metal and closing the entrance shut with the closing of his arms together.

He heaved, deactivating his crimson blade and catching up. "Cere, where are we off to?" he asked.

"This way! The Mantisand Greez are waiting," she waved, taking the lead as Cal followed, BD on his back. "We've got to go before they find us."

"You're sure they haven't already?!" Cal asked, Merrin's head bobbing as he ran.

"Only one way to find out!"

Xur looked over his shoulder for a moment, spotting orange as the inquisitors tried to cut through his patch, and he was only inspired to pick up the pace. Before he was completely lost in his effort to escape, his mind wandered…and quickly realized that Trilla was not with him.

Escaping suddenly didn't matter much to him.

"Keep going! I'll catch up!" he waved off, turning down a corridor, following her ping in the Force, and picking up the pace.

As Cal ran, holding Merrin steady, Cere looked back. "Where's he going?!"

He wasn't surprised nor disappointed. The woman he carried in his arms displayed that importance.

"To get Trilla."

* * *

Her muscles would not obey her commands, not matter how hard Trilla tried to back away, the cold sweat that sullied her skin was like ice, holding her in place as Vader approached step by step. Her eyes darted to the escape pod hatches, but nothing could convince her body to give up her fear.

"Your pathetic attempts at freedom have come to an end," he declared, his voice gripping her spine with a fierceness she could not deny. "You are _nothing_."

Trilla shut her eyes, desperately searching for anything to set her free, but every image in her mind displayed his unmatched power, and how easily he could end her life whenever he wished. This machine before her…he was a deity in her eyes, and all she could do was fall to her knees and watch in fear as he drew his blade.

"Do you see now, Trilla?" Effa breathed as she herself bowed, her fear of him placated by her own sheer madness. "We are never _free_."

Trilla could not even respond, and only one word was able to form through her mouth…the one she had uttered to him once before.

"_Mercy_…" she gasped.

Vader's blade ignited, the blood red shivering her body as she opened her eyes, facing the judgment at hand. Through the trembling, and the raising of his saber, she said, "Xur…if you can hear me…_avenge_ me."

Silence followed.

Then a loud _boom._

Vader was frozen momentarily, the space around him fazing in and out as the stasis field was maintained, and she heard but one, blood-curdling scream.

"_SKYWALKER!_"

She was yanked backwards end over end, and harsh footsteps roared past her as blades collided, and she could only witness in shock as Xur Eon crossed sabers with her worst nightmare.

Xur's hatred was palpable, burning the forest of the Force to the ground with each battering-ram swing that he threw at Vader, his screams the volume of capital ship engines at full power. When they finally split off, the space around him was bent like a singularity, the power he emitted warping reality itself.

Vader grunted, shaking off his power and cocking his head to one side. "Xur Eon. At last, you have revealed yourself to me."

"At last you've had the balls to face me yourself!" he retorted, holding his blade forward. "Or do you even have balls?"

Vader growled, its sound a deep rumble and threatening warning to all who stood before him. "Your wit masks your fear, Jedi. It will not save you before _me_."

"I don't need it to tear you _apart!_" Xur screamed. "You're going to die! You hear me?! I will be the one to finally put an end to your miserable existence!"

"Your power is _no match_ for mine, and your anger will not earn you victory, but _despair_," he continued. "Just as it had for her."

"_AHHHH!_" he screamed, swinging forward while Vader easily deflected his insane Form VII flurry. "I _hate_ you!"

Trilla could not believe her eyes. Whatever anger she had ever felt for _anyone_…it was _nothing_ compared to _this_. He was a literal conduit for the Dark Side of the Force, funneling his light into the drowning depths of darkness, emerging a raging menace that was immediately thrown into battle. Effa looked on, entranced just as she was, and Trilla's mind began to piece the words together.

_Why should she have the one she loves, and you not?_

_ SKYWALKER!_

She nigh collapsed in her state. Everything collided into the solution to a massive web that had been missing pieces since Xur had revealed himself. His close ally's betrayal, his intense and buried hatred for a man she could never identify…and the unquantifiable rage he had built after learning of the indignities she had suffered.

That man he hated was Anakin Skywalker, and _he_…was Darth Vader.

Her fear faded as the deity in her mind became a man with a face, no longer hidden by the mask he bore. The terrifying breathing became that of a dying man, and not an invincible machine, his god-like steps became broken…_pathetic_.

Darth Vader was no god. He was but a ruined man who had been the first to break before _any_ of them…and she grit her teeth with that revelation.

Fear became anger…and anger became _hate_.

Anakin Skywalker had been the architect of all of her pain, a man she once admired…a man Effa still loved. She hated him more than _any_ she had hated before.

Xur was finally batted away with a backhand, shattering his nose in a fit of blood as he landed on his back. He groaned, the bones in his arms screaming for him to stop as Vader's swings felt like starships colliding into his blade. His throat closed, and he was suspended in the air as Vader prepared to close his fist.

"Enough of this!" he growled. "Witness your _final_ death!"

Trilla screamed, enhanced so much by the Force she projected Vader was forced to drop him as Xur covered his ears. Vader staggered from her attack and she leapt after him, her blade igniting and crossing against his.

"You're no _god_…you're just a broken man like the rest of us!"

He swung with full might, and her blade was severed at the emitter, rendering it useless and her defenseless. In desperation, she searched for his life force and reached out, but like before, she felt absolutely nothing…from _anyone_.

At her right elbow, his saber cut through bone and severed her forearm clean off.

Xur heard Trilla's horrible scream in pain as she held the stump where her limb once was, and only instinct followed, pulling her into his arms and unleashing a massive torrent of Force lightning, holding the dark lord back as he desperately deflected it with his blade…until it broke through and fried his systems plenty to bring him to one knee. Desperately, Xur heaved himself and Trilla over to one of the escape pod hatches, forcing it open and falling inside. Knowing he only had a precious few moments until Vader's systems rebooted, he set Trilla aside and activated the launch.

They shot through a tube until eventually hitting the stark silence of space, and Xur fell to his rear, crying as his rage dissipated. Despite her wounded state, Trilla managed to get past her receding pain and embrace him with the one full arm she had left, her tears leaking from her own eyes as well.

As his anger faded, his natural ability making it so, he turned to her, holding her severed arm and touching his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry…I'm _so_ sorry. I should've…I should've told you, and now…"

"No," she shook her head. "Don't. I couldn't have known then…now I do. It's over now. We're alive."

He sniffed. "At what cost?"

With her flesh and blood hand, she held his cheek. "The necessary one."

Xur inhaled, letting her words sink in, before opening his eyes once again, reaching for the commlink on his belt.

"Cal…we need a pickup. Follow the beacon," he called in, activating the encrypted signal and dropping the comm.

The response came through. "_We read you. We're on our way, just hang on_."

He linked his hand with hers, and they never planned to let go again.

* * *

Vader rose to his feet, his mechanisms finally functional again from Xur's devastating attack, left only with a missing escape pod and a mumbling, mad inquisitor. The Third Sister maintained her bow, and his coarse breathing finally returned to its normal frequency.

"You failed him," she spoke to herself. "It's time for you to die. No! He wouldn't…he couldn't! He…he…!" her face finally met his downward gaze.

"You have failed me, inquisitor," he judged, but did not ignite his blade. "But your usefulness has not yet reached its end."

She smiled with a deep sigh of relief. "I will forever serve you…I am yours…always."

"Good," he praised. "The holocron…bring it to me."

Rising to her feet in a flash, the Third Sister bowed her head. "It will be yours, or my life is forfeit."

"Indeed," he agreed, and turned with the flap of his cape, leaving the inquisitor to watch him go.

It was time for him to act.

* * *

**The endgame, ladies and gentlemen…is upon us.**

**Thank you for being a great audience, and I hope this chapter was to your liking. This was one of immense importance, and I only wish that you have enjoyed yourself as much as I have thus far.**

**See y'all soon.**


	24. INTERLUDE III

**INTERLUDE III**

"Every single Jedi, including your friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is now an enemy of the Republic."

**Coruscant, 19 BBY**

**Republic Garrison**

Xur wasn't in the best of moods. Being left out of the chance to destroy General Grievous on Utapau stung somewhat, even if he believed that Obi-Wan could finish the job. This war, however terrible, had been his duty, and to miss out on its possible end felt like unfinished business. Instead, he found himself stuck at the garrison, trying to pass the time with some of his men, namely Raven, Lockdown, who was mostly toying with his gear, and Mars, who seemed to be working on another design for his armor.

The zabrak lounged back in his chair, mumbling to himself. "Obi-Wan and Cody sent to Utapau, Ahsoka and Rex to Mandalore…Xur, Anakin, and the rest of their sorry band…restricted to _sitting around_."

"Ah, come on General," Raven urged from his own chair. "I'm sure they'll have an assignment for us in no time."

"The assignment of the _century_ is happening _right now_," Xur insisted, huffing in annoyance. "And we've been benched."

Mars shrugged, using a marker to trace over his penciled in design atop his helmet. "I don't know. I think the rest will do us some good."

"Commandoes don't rest," Lockdown retorted, his voice deeper than the others. "The longer I sit here, the longer those droids get to continue functioning."

The zabrak grumbled with Lockdown's point well made, and then checked the time on his gauntlet, his eyes widening. Clearing his throat, he looked to Raven. "Hey, Captain…we need to do the thing."

Raven seemed baffled at first, until he remembered. "General…I'm not a huge fan of doing that thing."

"Come on, I'm already late," the zabrak insisted, rising to his feet. Raven was left with little choice but to follow him, leaving the other two alone at their round table. They paced to a secluded section of the garrison where his high-ranking troopers lounged, knowing he would not be disturbed.

"General Skywalker told me this isn't working for him anymore," Raven whispered as they came to the room door, handing Xur his helmet. "Are you sure about this?"

"Relax," Xur urged. "I'll be out in a minute."

He left Raven to stand watch at the door, closing it behind him and walking through the darkness to the center of the room. Setting the trooper's helmet down, he pulled out his handheld comm-link and placed it on the floor, activating it with a press of the button in the middle.

"_Your punctuality, as always, needs improvement_," Trilla joked as she appeared before him at full size, only barely not reaching his height by a couple inches. With her arms crossed, she looked absolutely incredible, all cleaned up and prepared for their call…while he had merely walked in as usual.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah…sorry. I lost track of time."

"_Aren't you on Coruscant?_" she asked, a smirk on her face as she popped her hips.

Xur sighed in embarrassment. "Sidelined…yeah, I know. The one time I'm stuck on Coruscant, you're not."

Trilla giggled. "_Don't be so cross. I know you don't appreciate the downtime, but it could do you some good. You can't always be out saving the galaxy._"

"I know, I know, I just…" he trailed off.

"_You feel left out_."

Xur let his head droop as he smiled to himself. She always knew what was on his mind, even with the smallest hints. "Yeah."

"_Xur…I know you've been shaped by the war, but please_," her expression became sincere, and in a less joking manner. "_You should try to let go of your thirst for battle and enjoy the finer things._"

He sighed. "Those finer things are no fun without you."

She didn't seem to expect that, and she could only smile as she blushed momentarily, running her fingers through her hair.

"I wish you were here," he confessed, stepping forward, wanting to take her hand into his, even if he couldn't.

She nodded, letting her head hang to one side. "_Me too._"

* * *

Outside, Raven stood guard awkwardly, saluting to 502nd members that passed by, truthfully hoping that the General would wrap up his conversation soon.

And then his eyes laid upon a familiar man approaching, his eyes darting away. Anakin gave a two-fingered salute in greeting as he approached, and Raven grumbled to himself.

"Son of a-," before banging on the door with his fist in a specific pattern.

* * *

Xur turned to the bang by the door, and Trilla looked over his shoulder. "_What was that?_"

The zabrak looked dumbfounded, and then grimaced as he returned to facing her. "Ugh, Anakin is coming. Why would he be bothering me now?"

Trilla observed his mannerisms for a moment, before shaking her head. "_Something's bothering you, and it's not the fact that you haven't received orders_."

Xur grumbled to himself, caught red-handed again. "It's Anakin…something is wrong with him, and he won't tell me. I can tell he's distressed…" he shook his head. "I don't know, Trilla. I'm worried about him."

She mulled his concerns, giving it thought before shrugging. "_He's your oldest friend, and there's no one he trusts more than you. If you prod him enough, show some support, he'll let you in_."

He sighed. "I hope you're right."

* * *

"Raven, have you seen Xur?" Anakin asked, looking somewhat in a hurry. "I need to talk to him as soon as possible."

Raven cleared his throat. "General! Ah, well…he's spot-checking my gear, sir."

Anakin deadpanned, crossing his arms. "I see…well, would you tell him to wrap it up? He and I need to have a chat."

"Right, right…uh right away, sir," Raven nodded, banging on the door again.

* * *

Xur groaned from the constant banging. "What the _fuck?_ He _knows _what I'm doing. This is a serious bro-code violation."

Trilla giggled. "_You always knew how to make things simple._"

Xur giggled back, reaching out to hold her holographic shoulder. "When this is over, we should…_do_ something."

Trilla nodded with a blissful smile. "_We will. Goodbye, Xur_."

"Goodbye, Trilla. Stay safe. Please."

When she disappeared, his heart sank again. Picking up Raven's helmet and pacing to the door, he opened to see Anakin waiting with his arms crossed. Giving him a trying look and tossing the captain his helmet, he flicked his head away from the barracks, prompting Anakin to walk beside him while he waved Raven off.

"Congratulations, you've ruined the one good part of my day," Xur remarked annoyedly. "This'd better be worth it."

"You need to listen to me," Anakin insisted as they walked away from the crowd, all the way towards the storage area. "I've learned something and I…need your advice."

They stopped in an obscure corner, well away from any prying eyes. Xur turned his head, caught off guard by his statement. "_My_ advice?"

Anakin looked extremely troubled, even more so than he had recently, and he hardly ever asked the zabrak for _advice_. Usually neither of them had much to teach each other, being at the same level in most everything, despite the three-year age difference. Sure, Anakin's connection to the Force was unmatched, but that was a given.

"The Dark Side," Anakin almost whispered. "What's it like?"

Xur leaned back slightly. "It sucks."

He huffed in slight annoyance. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," Xur insisted, his tone low. "Anakin, what's going on? You've looked like you're about to walk into a funeral for the past couple weeks. Talk to me."

Anakin grumbled deeply, looking unsure of himself as his hands fell to his hips, and Xur felt his trust finally earn his ticket in. "Listen to me. You keep this to yourself, understand?"

Xur leaned in, crossing his arms. "Anakin, when have I ever ratted you out?"

He paused for a moment, before nodding, his voice falling almost silent. "It's Padme…I think she's going to die."

His eyes widened. "What? How?"

"Childbirth," Anakin answered. "I need to know if there's a way to save her."

"What makes you think she's going to die?"

"I've seen it," he admitted. "Nightmares. Same ones I had about…"

Xur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fucking hell," he cursed, knowing the severity of the situation. "Alright, I get it. The Dark Side…I don't know. Saving someone from death is beyond my knowledge."

"Do you think it's actually possible?" he asked, his interest paramount.

Xur shrugged. "Maybe…but I don't know if it's worth the _risk_ Skywalker. And who knows? The future isn't set in stone."

"No, it's…" Anakin denied. "I can feel it. It's real. I _have_ to know."

"Listen to me…" Xur pulled his attention. "The Dark Side…it changes you. Yes, it grants you power, but…you're not _you_ anymore. And once you feel it…it's there _forever_. I've tried my best my entire life not to be a piece of shit, but despite all my natural ability, it's always there.

"I'm telling you…it's not worth it."

"I don't care!" Anakin growled. "I won't lose her!"

"Anakin!" Xur urged him to keep his voice down.

"If it were Trilla…what would you do?" he asked. "Hm? Tell me. If Trilla was about to die, look me straight in the eye and tell me you wouldn't do _anything_."

Xur wanted to tell him no, and make him forego this insanity, but he never lied to Anakin, not with something this serious. If he thought Trilla would die, he'd burn half the galaxy to get her back, and he knew Anakin felt the same about Padme.

Which made this even harder.

"I can walk _back_, Anakin," Xur frivolously explained. "If you go, that's it, you're _done_. Anakin Skywalker is gone forever, and I'm telling you, you'll spend the rest of your life wishing you _never_ did it, no matter _what_ it brings."

Anakin's stance didn't change, and his eyes looked away, slanting in a menacing fashion. Xur pointed.

"You're giving me the face you make when you're about to do something stupid."

He growled, swiping his hand through the air. "If you won't help me, _fine_. I'll do it myself."

"Hey! I never said I wouldn't help you!" Xur grabbed his shoulder before he could walk away. "But you need to listen to me, Anakin. I'm telling you…"

Anakin batted his hand away and pushed him against the wall with an outstretched hand, leaving the zabrak to grunt from the hard impact. The brown-haired Jedi then stomped off, while Xur only watched him go with a pressing look of concern.

He was _changing_…already, and it wasn't until then that Xur felt a wave of the Dark Side rip across the landscape, shivering him to his core.

Something was happening.

His commlink chimed as he picked himself up, quickly activating it to reveal the image of Reyna Vorchenko, her expression stern. "Reyna? What's up?"

"_General…I need to speak to you and your fireteam, alone. Where can we meet?_"

* * *

**Kamparas, 19 BBY**

**Jedi Training Center**

"Concentrate…focus your mind."

Cere's words hardly registered within Trilla, who sat cross-legged in the circle of younglings, while her master lead the meditation. Her mind was simply elsewhere, tentative excitement roaring through her in an uncontainable fashion.

Xur had asked her out on a _date_.

It was certainly his style; unsure of himself, bashful and somewhat oblivious to what he was entailing. She figured he never intended his request to be a "date" so to speak, but in his heart, that was what he wished, and that was what came out of his impulse-guided mouth. Trilla had loved that about him, making it impossible for him to keep his true feelings from her detection.

She could hardly bear the wait. With the togruta finally out of the way, reconciled with the Separatist super-soldier, she could at last have what she'd always desired.

Now she just needed an excuse to return to Coruscant.

"Trilla."

She opened her eyes to Cere's voice, and every other pair was on her, especially that of her master. "What?"

"Your mind is racing. It's affecting the others," she remarked. "I need you to focus."

Trilla nodded, mostly to get her attention away. "Yes, Master."

Once Cere once again began to speak her words, Trilla sighed in hopes that this would go by any faster. In her mental solitude, she felt a dark wave roll through the Force, and when she opened her eyes in confusion, no one else had reacted.

Whatever that was, it was long gone now.

* * *

_**Demeter**_**, 19 BBY**

**Over Coruscant**

"Did the Commodore tell you why she needed us on her ship? Little strange, don't you think?" Raven asked, pacing just beside Xur while Lockdown and Mars followed behind. It didn't take long for them to catch a gunship and hit orbit, since Xur could essentially request one at his leisure…but Vorchenko already had one ready to dust off on the ground.

"Whatever it is, it must be important," Xur figured. "You know her. Doesn't like to talk much."

Mars nudged the commando with his elbow. "Neither does Lockdown old boy."

Lockdown grumbled. "Ah, what's there to talk about? Tell me we found that Wraith bastard, then you'll get me talking."

"Damn right," Raven agreed while Xur kept quiet. "Whatever happened to him, General?"

The zabrak shrugged. "Beats me. Vorchenko's actually put a lot of thought into finding him, but nothing. The guy's a myth."

That was a lie. Shortly after Tranbir IX, the GAR tried to sic him to the super soldier, practically begging him to focus all his efforts on tracking him down. For whatever reason, despite Anakin's uneasy past with him, the brass thought he was the only man who could pull it off, which may have been true.

What they didn't know was the implications that came with it. If Xur ever did find him again, it'd be like trying to beat an idiot's array with another, a brutal stalemate that'd just end up splitting the pot in the end. He and Vorchenko understood the necessity for him to actually be as far away from the Wraith as possible, so as not to stall out the advance of the 502nd into the outer rim. Since Operation Countdown began, he and Anakin had been far and away the most successful campaigns of the multitude that had been initiated, nearly splitting the Confederacy in two by now. Hunting the Wraith would be exactly what the Separatists needed to catch their breath and regroup.

So Vorchenko had been crafty, tracking his movements to the best of her ability, whilst assembling an algorithm that kept their invasion path away from his rampage. How she achieved that was with…less _legal_ means than the Republic was aware of…and she merely informed her superiors that he was _elusive_; a narrative not new to anyone, and it stuck.

Besides, he'd rather not be forced to kill the man Ahsoka cared for so dearly. He was only one man, and as far as Xur could tell, no commander. A super soldier could only do so much in such a massive galaxy.

"Did you hear what he did on Anaxes?" Mars asked as they approached the _Demeter_ medical bay, where they had agreed to meet the Commodore. "Wiped out an entire platoon."

"They had an algorithm," Lockdown downplayed. "I could take him."

Mars scoffed. "Fat chance, soldier. He's killed Jedi!"

Xur chuckled to himself. "Don't tell me you're a fan, trooper."

"Absolutely not, sir, but I respect his ability," the arc trooper admitted. "If you don't, it'll just get you killed."

The zabrak could get behind that.

As soon as they walked into the bay, Vorchenko was already there, conversing with her chief medical officer.

"I want it cleared," she affirmed, noticing them approaching as well. "I need a personal inspection, and to debrief our General."

The clone CMO tipped his head. "If you say so, ma'am."

"That will be all," she turned away, enticing him to leave as Xur and his fireteam entered, a tap on her datapad shutting the door closed. "Thank you for coming, General, Captain and special forces."

All three clones saluted, while Raven carried out the words. "You've earned your respect within the 502nd, Commodore, and if the General trusts you, so do we."

"You will not find it misplaced," she saluted back, and then returning her attention to her datapad. "But I am afraid this may not be a pleasant visit."

"Is it ever?" Xur asked, but she didn't seem to appreciate his joking demeanor. Clearing his throat, he shaped up. "Well Commodore, give it to us straight."

Vorchenko sighed, turning towards a small screen as her datapad interfaced. "Rava, if you will."

From behind the Commodore rolled out a black spherical droid with a singular red optic on its half-sphere head. How it managed to move around efficiently was beyond Xur's knowledge, as he had never witnessed such a droid construction before.

"Gentlemen," Rava spoke in greeting.

"It talks?" Raven asked, stunned.

"_It_ is a _she_," Vorchenko corrected. "And Rava is a Virtual Intelligence construct, more advanced than even the most intricate tactical computer. Why she looks the way she does is for safety, and _none_ of you will reveal what is discussed in this room…understood?"

"Don't have to tell me twice, ma'am," Mars accepted.

Xur felt uneasy already. "Reyn-…_Commodore_…you're looking anxious. You _never_ look anxious."

"There is good reason," Rava answered for her, her voice accented slightly and in a feminine tone. "Captain, if I may, I would like to you take a seat on this medical stretcher."

Raven hesitated for a moment, until Vorchenko nodded to second the VI's request. Setting his helmet aside, he took a seat while Rava entered a contraption that lifted her form to his eyelevel, able to shift around the bed via a crane latched to the ceiling.

Vorchenko activated the screen above, and pointed, leading to Rava beginning a scan of the clone's head.

"What's this?" Xur asked.

"A test," Vorchenko answered, watching the screen closely, with her hand grasping its corner. Xur could only best make it out as a brain scan, as Raven's cranium was displayed much quicker than usual.

"Don't brain scans usually take a few minutes?" Mars asked.

"Done," Rava remarked, her optic's light fading. Everyone's eyes turned to the screen, and then waited for Vorchenko's answer as she studied it.

"Bloody hell," she huffed, shoving away the screen in a fit.

"What? Bloody hell what?" Raven asked, concerned about his own well-being.

"It's the same," Rava confirmed. "Just like the other files we datamined on Kamino. They're hiding something."

"Dammit," Vorchenko cursed. "Scan the others."

Mars and Lockdown were both confirmed to have a similar ailment, to which Xur still did not understand.

Once they were done, the Commodore highlighted the similar anomaly in all their brains. "Organic chips in all three of you."

"What?" Raven gasped, holding his head. "What the hell for?"

"Wait…" Xur raised his hand. "Didn't Anakin tell us about what happened to Tup, and subsequently Fives? Wasn't this…the same?"

"Yes. This is what Rava and I have been researching quietly," she admitted. "I don't know what they do, but when one of these malfunctioned, Tup executed a Jedi."

Silence filled the room as everyone contemplated the implications…until Lockdown pointed to his head.

"Take it out then," the commando insisted.

"Lockdown…" Xur waved off, unsure of the risk.

"I'm not letting some mind control chip overheat and make me kill you, General," Lockdown insisted. "Take it out."

Xur looked to Vorchenko, who in turn nodded to Rava.

"I can do it," Rava assured.

Xur sighed, and was about to confirm, but a searing pain ignited his brain as the Force relayed a horrible message to him. There was lightning, a blue blade…and a perilous drop. The zabrak gasped as he fell forward, grabbing ahold of the nearest support as the images flashed by…and he knew what they meant once they passed.

"M-…Master," he heaved, nothing but a whisper.

"Sir!" Raven held him up. "What's wrong?"

His Master, Mace Windu, was dead…and he had no idea how.

"Get them out," he urged, fury present on his face. "Now!"

* * *

**Coruscant, 19 BBY**

**Jedi Temple**

Effa paced the halls, followed by two younglings that persisted to ask her questions, each of them bringing a smile to her face. She had always loved children, entertaining them especially, but to watch them adorably beam to her was empowering. Most of her life she had spent it looking up to others, and to have her own to be an example for was ever more satisfying.

"Have you ever seen a gundark?" one of them asked. "I've heard they're massive!"

Effa giggled, falling to his eyelevel as she bent her knees. "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me when you do."

"Aw!" the other complained. "I want to see one too!"

"I'm going to be first!"

"Now, now," Effa eased, holding the two young boys back. "What's the need for a competition? You can both see one together, can't you?"

They both met her eyes with looks of worry that eventually softened, seeing her point. "Sorry Master Azulia," they both apologized.

"It's fine," she smiled, rising back to her full height. "Now, why don't we…"

Effa hadn't realized how close they had come to the Temple entrance, but the sound of distinct marching began to echo towards the line of pillars. She could sense an intense amount of energy coming from outside, and her curiosity got the better of her as she walked forward and was granted with an unsettling sight.

A hooded Jedi was leading an entire legion of clone troopers through the Temple doors, and the increasing amount of animosity she felt made her fall back, while other Jedi came from their respective rooms and duties to examine the commotion. There were gasps of confusion, followed by occasional sighs of relief at the less-than-threatening sight of the men they had fought beside for the past three years.

Effa peered through the hood and felt that relief come. "Anakin…"

Then the clones started _shooting_.

* * *

_**Demeter**_**, 19 BBY**

**Over Coruscant**

"…got it," Rava pulled her prod from Mars' skull while Vorchenko quickly applied a bandage to stop the bleeding. The arc trooper grunted in pain, but breathed slowly as it ebbed away, the procedure over.

Raven grasped his shoulder, his head already patched. "You alright?" he asked.

Mars nodded, rising to his feet. "Better, now that I don't have that thing in my brain."

Xur was hovering behind Vorchenko as she disposed of the three chips, pulling the disposable medical gloves from her hands. "What do you think those were?"

The Commodore shook her head, visibly distressed as she reapplied her own gloves. "I only have theories. Not even Rava can dissertate why, and she has access to the entire Republic database."

As Rava was lowered back to the ground, the VI paused, her optic flashing as she seemed to notice something. "I'm picking up heavy comm traffic…all originating from a single point of origin."

Just on cue, Raven's commlink flashed. Eyeing it cautiously while all eyes fell to him, Xur gave him the nod to answer. What appeared was a hooded and gnarled figure, no one he had ever seen before.

In a raspy and horrid voice, he said, "_Execute Order Sixty-Six._"

Xur felt the galaxy die around him.

* * *

**Kamparas, 19 BBY**

**Jedi Training Center**

Trilla reached out for Amelia in vain as the youngling ran outside to the clone commander, trying to spook him. The Padawan could only smile at her attempt, as well as bask in the beauty of the day outside. Kamparas was chosen to train younglings for good reason, as the weather was hardly ever bad near the center but could up the ante near the swamp areas or tall mountains.

"Boo!" Amelia spooked, and the commander didn't flinch, but laughed at the attempt.

"Almost had me that time," he pointed. "You'll have to do better."

Trilla decided to leave them be, pacing away so Amelia could bother her best friend. It was good for her, definitely being the most anxious of all the younglings, so time away from the blazing emotions of the others was helpful.

Besides, Trilla wanted to keep her mind on Xur at the moment. Just the thought of him made her smile, his attitude, his adorable bashfulness…his _great ass_.

But there was more to it than his looks, which were there, certainly. He had always made her feel special, even if she didn't deserve it, and the euphoria that ran through her veins at his side was second to none. Ever since Tranbir IX he had been on her mind, and when this war was over, she wanted to do something about that.

She wanted to tell him she loved him…and hear him say he loved her back.

A splitting headache ravaged her skull…but quickly she noticed there was more to it. There was a message…a _warning_.

When she turned to Amelia, the commander raised his blaster and fired a bolt straight through the young girl's skull.

Trilla didn't know how to react to such an atrocious sight. All that came next was raw instinct as she unleashed a harsh scream in horror from her throat, and the commander pointed his blaster her way next. The gold blade at her belt ignited, and with two flicks of her wrist, Trilla deflected both bolts back to their owner, and the commander dropped dead.

"Amelia!" she screamed, running to the child's body, flipping it over only to see her lifeless eyes stare into the sun. It was an image straight from her worst nightmare, and she couldn't even heal the youngling's wound…not if she was already dead. All she did was shake in terror as she ran her shaking hands over her face to shut her eyelids, and immediately tears fell from her eyes.

Why would the commander do that? Why would _anyone_ execute a helpless little girl? Amelia had never been a threat…in fact she had been perhaps the purest heart Trilla had ever encountered, certainly purer than her own…and she was just _dead_.

Her only responsibility was to protect this girl, and she had failed. Why should she pay for her mistakes…with her _life?_

Trilla vomited on the spot, feeling herself fall into a state of shock as cold sweat covered her face. She felt weak…unable to move as Amelia's dead body hung over her head, her vision tunneling into blackness…fading away.

It's what she deserved.

The clicking of another blaster sharpened her senses, and with a burst of adrenaline, she rose to her feet and deflected another bolt back to her assailant, dropping him dead as more clone troopers charged at her. Faced with no choice but to leave her body behind, Trilla fell inside the training center and shut the door, pulling the locking mechanism shut as blaster bolts riddled it in retaliation.

"Leave the body! That Jedi is already dead!" she heard one shout…almost sounding entranced.

"Get this door open!"

Trilla stepped back and deactivated her blade, running back down the hall to find Cere and warn the others.

* * *

_**Demeter**_**, 19 BBY**

**Over Coruscant**

It was like a standoff, but Xur wasn't sure why he was on edge, aside from the crippling intensity of the feedback the Force was granting him. Whatever was happening, Jedi were being _slaughtered_ across the galaxy, and he only had one question for everyone in the room.

"What the fuck is Order Sixty-Six?"

Vorchenko was quick to answer, her grip firmly on his shoulder. "The execution of all Jedi across the Republic. We need to get you out of here, _now_."

"That was only for rogue Jedi…" Raven noted. "Why the hell would the Chancellor tell me to kill _you?!_"

"Fuck that," Lockdown added, which was the first time Xur had ever heard him curse.

"You said it, brother," Mars agreed. "The Chancellor can take his order and shove it up his rectum for all I care. I know you, General. You're not a traitor."

Xur scoffed. "Then why is everyone else getting gunned down?!" Instantly his mind wandered to Trilla, searching the Force desperately for an answer, but he felt nothing…nothing at all. His hatred built like a bonfire, and he probed for a face to pin to this catastrophe…this grievous betrayal by the very system he had fought so hard to preserve.

"General!" Vorchenko shouted, making him look into her fierce blue-violet eyes. "If these chips that we pulled out of your men are the cause, then _everyone_ on this ship will try to kill you. We _need_ to get you someplace safe."

Safe…yeah that sounded great right about now…but what about everyone else? He was one the most powerful Jedi in the Order, second only to one, and they were being actively exterminated. Who would he be if he ran and hid when they needed him most?

He _never_ ran away from a fight, and this was the prize match, the main event. It was all he had ever trained for: armageddon…the end of the galaxy as anyone would know it. Xur Eon was the contingency should all else fail, when all other options had been exhausted.

That time was now.

"No," he shook his head, and she almost grit her teeth in annoyance. "You all need to chase me. You all need to _look_ like you're along with it…and that is the best chance any of us has right now. If the Jedi are going to fall, then so will the Republic with it, and I need people I trust on the inside."

"General, that's insan-," Raven protested, only to be cut off.

"It's the only way. I'm going back to Coruscant, and I'm going to figure this out."

Vorchenko looked distressed. "You don't need to be the bloody hero! We can work together, just as always!"

"And we will!" Xur insisted, grasping her shoulders. "Reyna, I need you to trust me. Do you?"

Her eyes shut with distaste, but her resolve finalized. "Always."

"Good," he let her go, backing off towards the door. "Call it in. Boys, it's been a pleasure," he saluted, to which they returned whole-heartedly.

"We'll find you again, General," Raven assured. "I promise!"

"I'm counting on it," he smirked, and exited the medical bay, running off.

With deep sorrow that Vorchenko expertly hid, she activated a ship-wide alert. "All crew of the _Demeter_. Order Sixty-Six has been enacted. Xur Eon is a traitor to the Republic. If you see him, shoot on sight."

* * *

**Coruscant, 19 BBY**

**Jedi Temple**

Effa had never seen so many dead children in her life. Each glossy-eyed and lifeless youngling increased her nausea exponentially, beginning to feel helplessly sick as she entered the turbolift to the Council Chambers. That was where the rest of the younglings were told to hide, and while she had promised to be there with them, the thousands of clone troopers coming her way had separated them. Only after careful movements was she able to sneak her way to the turbolift…but each step felt like another dead soul entering her vision.

When it reached the Chambers and opened, what she saw finally unleashed the vomit dwelling within her.

Anakin cut down the last youngling she had been sworn to protect, fear stricken in their eyes as they couldn't comprehend why he would suddenly kill them. Effa could no longer discern reality, her vision hazy and mind scrambled. Everything she had seen felt like a falsehood, a horrible nightmare, but it felt so _real_. Every death in the Force was distinct, perceivable, and most of all…_intense_.

When she looked up, Anakin's yellow eyes plagued her as they bore into her soul, and all she could do was cry, not caring about the vomit pool below her.

He said nothing, just standing above her with that cold stare, and Effa desperately searched for anything within him. All she felt was cold rage, fueled by an innate desire to preserve something she could not identify. She didn't feel any hatred for him…she just wanted to know _why_.

"I've known you since we were children…Anakin," she whimpered. "What happened?"

The hooded figure of raw darkness remained silent, his blue blade twitching.

Effa bowed her head, feeling the end upon her. The Jedi Order would die today, and Anakin would be accomplice to its death. There was no explanation, but something within her stirred. It was then that her hatred ignited, fueled not by what Anakin had done…but at what had made him feel such a way.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, looking up as her brow slanted. "Who made you suffer so much pain?"

Anakin could sense her change in demeanor, and he steadied his blade, finally gracing her with his voice. "The Jedi."

Effa grit her teeth. The Jedi had ignited this blaze of hatred within Anakin, and _they_ had taken him away. A darkness within her consumed her essence until her rage was absolute…and that was when Anakin extinguished his blade.

"Anakin…all I've ever cared about…was you," she admitted, seething. "I don't…I don't care about the Jedi. If they have betrayed you, then they have betrayed me."

Her pain dissipated, the images of all those dead becoming easier to bear…until she felt no pain at all. Anger had become her ally, pain its fuel, and in turn, it had freed her from her suffering. Slowly rising to her feet, her eyes tinted yellow, and Anakin pulled his head back in observation.

"Whatever path you walk, Anakin. I wish to walk it at your side," she pledged.

Anakin's cold stare loosened upon her, and with a stark nod, he paced past her, moving to the turbolift. "Head to the Temple depths. Wait for me. If you survive, I will find you, and we may begin."

Temple depths, survive, and she could begin. "I will," she promised, watching him cross his arms in the lift.

"Things will be different," he assured, before the door shut, leaving her alone.

_Things will be different._

Effa smiled blissfully. At last, Anakin had seen her worth.

* * *

Xur heaved up the Temple steps, closing his fist as two necks snapped, 501st Legion clone troopers dropping dead beside him. The Dark Side within him was palpable, fueling his every ascending step as the trail of bodies behind him grew longer. His view was that straight out of a horrible nightmare: the Jedi Temple ablaze, the bodies of his Jedi brothers and sisters sprawled out in horrible fashion. No tears fell from his eyes, only blinding hatred corrupted his irises as he reached the top step.

Anakin was there, stopping as his own yellow eyes met with the zabrak's. Within moments, all of Xur's worst assumptions had been realized, and his fist clenched around dual hilt. The flames that destroyed his home since he was merely three years old was the only sound either of them heard, the noxious smoke covering the space between them as each breath blew it away.

"I had a feeling I'd find you here," Xur shouted across the distance, stepping forward. "I hoped and prayed that I wouldn't…but here we are."

"Here we are," Anakin echoed, his hilt still in hand. "I see your troops didn't kill you."

Xur grit his teeth behind his lips. "Oh, they tried. As did yours."

Anakin had no answer for him, and Xur's hatred intensified as Anakin's betrayal took root, solidifying itself into his reality.

"After all that…all we've done…why?!" he asked, probing for anything. He had warned him about the Dark Side, but it appeared his warning had fallen upon deaf ears. Even so…_this_…this atrocity was beyond anything he could've envisioned. The entire Jedi Order, _dead_, because Anakin was _afraid_.

No…there _had_ to be more to this. That jump…it just wasn't possible.

"There's still a chance for you to make the right choice," Anakin offered, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. "You can join me. Together, we are more powerful than the Chancellor!"

_The Chancellor?_

_Execute Order Sixty-Six._

Yes, that was _his_ voice. Mace Windu, his Master, could've only been killed by one kind of man: a Sith Lord. All this time, the Republic had been under the control of the Dark Lord of the Sith, and not a single Jedi had been able to decipher that. His deception had been paramount…absolute, and in the end, totally fatal to the Jedi Order.

And Anakin had spurred it along. His Master, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Kaidan, Effa…_Trilla_. They could _all_ be dead by now, and he only had one man to blame.

His hatred manifested, adopting a face that he could recognize, and forever he could see that face imprinted in his mind. Anakin Skywalker had been his most trusted ally and closest friend, and he had destroyed everything he ever cared about.

"And then what?" Xur seethed. "Rule the galaxy?! Fuck that, murderer."

Anakin's brow slanted, beginning his march forward. "Last chance. Join with me…or become my enemy."

"That's _easy_," Xur spat, twisting his blade to separate the hilts, igniting two orange blades of fiery fury. "I've known the Dark Side far longer than you ever will. You going to pay for all the Jedi you've slaughtered!"

Anakin's blue blade followed suit, and he pointed. "Know this…after I kill you, you know who'll be next. Even if you survive this day, I swear to you, you will never see her again!"

Xur exploded. "Touch her, and I'll _kill you!_"

"Maybe she'll have the sense to join me…or not."

"I _hate_ you…_SKYWALKER!_" he shouted and rocketed through the air, his leap cracking the ground beneath him as he collided into the new Sith Lord. They rolled end over end until Anakin planted his boots into his chest and kicked him off, sending the zabrak across the hall. Xur roared as he flipped to his feet, lifting massive chunks of rubble from the ground as the Force reverberated in a deep hum, hurling them towards Anakin. His adversary reached out, dodging one but stopping the other mid-flight and hurling it back, forcing Xur to roll away from the intense retaliation.

The zabrak barely looked up in time to cross his blades with Anakin's as he descended upon him. As Jedi, they had been equals in every aspect of dueling, and their connection to the Force was nearly the same, but Xur quickly noticed that Anakin's power with the Dark Side was beyond anything he could possibly muster on his own. Not even his unorthodox use of Form VII Vaapad was enough to throw Anakin off, and eventually he had one blade batted from his hand, falling to one knee as he held his overhead swing back.

"This is the end for you, Eon," Anakin declared.

He struggled, but his hatred returned in full force, sharpening his focus and intensifying his power through the pain he felt. It siphoned from his chest and through his arms…feeling his blade push back. Anakin struggled to hold him down, and when Xur flipped from his blade, he outstretched both hands, engulfing the former Jedi in a torrent of lightning, electrocuting him ten-fold as the blast fired him through the air, landing a static mess across the hall.

Commotion built, and Xur could hear footsteps echoing from above. "Lord Vader! Are you alright?"

_Lord Vader._

Anakin heaved, visibly hurt from the attack, and through his searing yellow eyes, he pointed. "There's a Jedi. _Kill him!_"

Xur knew better than to stick around. He'd have the entire 501st on top of him in time, and with one last relish of Anakin's pain, he turned and ran, his blades slicing through the pillars on each side of him. Clones screamed as the above section collapsed, burying the path behind him in rubble as he continued to run.

Anywhere but _here_.

* * *

**Kamparas, 19 BBY**

**Stone Ruins**

Days passed as Trilla and Cere fled from the training center, taking what surviving younglings they could into their contingency shelter, only to realize the clones would know where it was. When that failed, and they lost two younglings for their failure, they had fled to unmapped ruins in the swamps of Kamparas, and it was only a matter of time until the clone squads closed in.

Running through the stone halls as mortar fire blasted their position, Trilla wiped the blood from her forehead as it leaked into her eyes, the wound not serious enough for her to risk tending to it. Beside her ran Petro, his blue hair sullied and matted as he tried to keep up. She desperately needed to find Cere, as the back of the ruins had been overrun…and she had lost yet another youngling to clone blasterfire.

Petro was visibly distressed, and she had told him to keep it at bay, even if she was terrible at hiding her own. It almost felt hypocritical to ask such a thing, with the galaxy falling around them.

After minutes of non-stop sprinting, Trilla rounded the corner to the front of the ruins, spotting Cere with the rodian youngling, Ganodi. She ran forward at the sight of Trilla, hugging her leg in desperation as the shouting outside only grew louder.

"Trilla, I'm scared!" she plead, and the Padawan did what she could, catching her breath while Petro stayed back. Cere was looking towards the light at the end of the tunnel they had chosen to hide within. Holding Ganodi's head in efforts to calm her, she had grown tired of the two of them splitting up while more younglings died.

When Cere approached, looking as if she was about to do something foolhardy, Trilla grasped her arm furiously. "Don't go. We _need_ to stick together!" she protested.

Her words were regarded by her Master, but Cere made another backwards look, seemingly at the precipice of an outrageous decision. "No," Cere denied. "I'm going to lure them away, and then I'm going to circle back," she decided, and Trilla felt her soul ripped from her body, a stark helplessness at the prospect of being without her mentor. "Stay with the younglings, Trilla."

_Stay with the younglings? Are you fucking mad?!_

She wanted to say it, and there was an undeniable hatred that aroused within her. Cere was about to abandon her, foolishly risk her life against suicidal odds…leaving the remaining younglings to her responsibility…and she couldn't protect them. She knew it.

"May the Force be with you," Cere said, before sprinting through the tunnel, leaving Trilla to only reach out in vain.

"Master! Don't leave us!" Trilla begged, hoping to see her stop and come back, but she never did, disappearing into the light as the shouting increased at her sight. Now Ganodi looked up to her, the rodian's eyes filled with fear.

"Trilla…what's going to happen?" she shivered.

She had no idea, and Petro's stunned look said it all, but she had to look strong for them. If she began to panic, they would begin to panic, and soon they'd all be dead.

"It's okay, it's okay," she lied, holding her head. "I won't let anyone touch you."

She had said that so many times, it already felt like a blatant lie when she had said it once again. Trilla had no idea where to go from here, and Cere could only buy them so much time.

Petro stepped forward, grasping the Padawan's own shivering shoulder. "We're in this together Trilla," he assured. "We can do this!"

_No…we can't._

It was only a matter of time now.

* * *

**Ventooine, 14 BBY**

**Mesa Outskirts**

"She told me to run," Petro recounted from his makeshift bed only a few yards from where Brutis had camped out, his eyes locked on the stars. "Instead of staying behind and fighting with her…I ran…I ran faster than I ever had…and here we are."

Brutis huffed. "You were smart."

Petro narrowed his eyes. "I was a coward!"

"There's cowardice, and then there's strategic retreat," he argued. "I told you to abandon all that self-sacrifice blurrg-shit, didn't I?"

Petro sighed, remembering his words. "I know."

"Then what are you whining about?"

He scoffed. "I'm not whining!"

"Your lips are moving and you're complaining about something. That's whining," Brutis explained, shifting in his own spot. "Your harpy of a guardian is an inquisitor now, so if I were you, I wouldn't feel so bad about what happened."

Brutis had already told him that, and it still was tough to process for him, but he had admittedly lost a lot of his soft feelings during his time under the former purge trooper's tutelage. Admittedly, the former youngling was seeing improvement, and it had shown in the various skirmishes they had fallen into. Where they were going was beyond him, but who they ran into was more his concern.

"If I ever saw her again, what should I do?" he asked.

Brutis grumbled, turning over. "I would tell her to shut the fuck up so I can get some sleep."

Petro didn't react to his harshness. In fact…he found a stupid grin making its way across his face.

Just another day at the edge of the galaxy.

* * *

**Yay, Order 66, all nice and cheery for you guys.**

**On another note, 10,000 views! As a treat, I'm releasing TWO chapters today, so another is coming up! Thank you all for your incredible support so far, and I hope it's only getting better as we go on.**

**Also, Xur Eon is appearing in DFM23's **_**Rise of the Wraith**_**! His story is in my favorites tab, if you're interested (which I strongly recommend!).**

**And I feel like, as a human being, I should address COVID-19, which seems to be a conduit of mass hysteria, perpetuated by a false narrative. All major sports have closed in the United States, schools are shutting down, the works, but listen to me: THE WORLD IS NOT COMING TO AN END. Should we respect it? Absolutely! Should we fall into a state of madness because the media looks to profit off of it? No! People are fighting over toilet paper for fuck sake. Relax! It is infectious, but it has shown to not be nearly lethal enough to warrant this much panic. We're going to be alright.**

**Don't be pulling up to the grocery store like Trilla, alright? Pull up more like Greez, or Merrin (who don't put up with nobody's bullshit), chillin.**

**That's my spiel on that, and I'm done talking about it. Next chapter coming up!**


	25. Old Wounds

**CHAPTER 20**

Old Wounds

"It is what we rise above that makes us who we are."

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

Merrin ceased the flow of energy from her fingers as her power dissipated, and then proceeded to rewrap the halved end of Trilla's right arm in a piece of torn cloth from Xur's own robes. He sat alongside the coach she was laid out on, his knees pulled up and arms wrapped around, looking up to the nightsister for her answer.

"I've cleared the infection," Merrin answered, allowing Trilla to rest. "But that's all I can do for her. I'm sorry."

Xur swallowed with that realization, looking towards the floor before eventually nodding his head. "Thank you, Merrin."

She merely tipped her head and subtly slipped away, off to Cal's room, he predicted. The zabrak finally took his chance to sit beside her, for the first time unsure as to whether or not he should reach out for comfort. Her eyes looked despondent, fixed on the back of the couch as she remained still, her black hair shaggy and unattended to.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, keeping his voice down so Greez could not listen in from the cockpit. He was grateful for their rescue, but that did not mean he put all his trust in the crew of this ship, especially with handling Trilla. Merrin seemed to be the only neutral and intermediary party available, and the nightsister had almost served as a messenger, since Cere had not dared venture near any place Trilla resided. That was perhaps for the best, since Trilla's emotional state was fragile at best.

As was his own.

Trilla did not answer his question immediately, and he made no move to pressure her so. Instead, she rolled over, trying to rise, only to use her missing right hand out of habit and slip off the couch, Xur there to catch her before she injured herself further.

"Easy, easy," he urged, lifting her into a sitting position and setting her down. "Don't hurt your-."

"Stop treating me like a _child!_" she spat in annoyance, and Xur backed off, giving her space.

"Sorry," he eased.

Trilla realized her outburst too late and grimaced, her head drooping in sorrow as she lifted her missing limb, sniffling as the realization hit her. "Why?"

Xur slowly slipped back into the couch, sitting right beside her. "Why what?"

She let it drop, her eyes looking towards the cockpit and the blue tunnel of hyperspace. "Why must I be made to suffer? What did I ever do to deserve _any_ of this?"

He shook his head with finality. "Nothing. You didn't deserve anything you've been through."

"No," she denied, her body rocking forward with each point she made. "No, there _has_ to be a reason. The Force has a will, does it not?"

"So they say," he had always been cynical about the Force having a will of its own, and he felt it necessary to tell her the truth even if it wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Trilla…you can't beat yourself up over this. That's what he wants."

Her upper lip trembled as anger resurfaced, her eyes igniting with a yellow glow. "He took my _future_, my soul, my arm…he took _everything_ from me. I…I…"

Xur reached out and grasped her remaining hand, removing her glove so that their skin could touch, just as it did on Katarr. Her hatred blazed, but with his presence came a wave of calm that deepened her breathing and relaxed her frame, and eventually she gripped his hand with that same effect on him. Despite her fragile state, she had always had an indescribable ability to dissipate his anger, giving way to bliss and joy. His own buried hatred could be forgotten for merely a moment with her touch, an unbreakable peace that sharpened his mind and strengthened his soul.

A revelation blossomed in his mind.

"Maybe you…maybe _we_ should try to let go of our hatred," he suggested.

Trilla looked upon him like he was a madman.

"Let go?" she almost mocked, her eyes still adopting that sinister color. "Everything I've suffered has made me _stronger_. How could I _ever_ let go of it?"

"You let go of your hatred for me," he reminded her. "I'd say that worked out pretty well."

She shook her head in denial. "That was different. Everything else? You're asking for too much."

"Is it?"

Trilla tried not to explode, air oozing from her nose and grit teeth behind her lips. Xur was challenging her again, just as he had when she was the Second Sister, and while it may be detrimental to the lives of everyone else on board, it had to be done.

"You…" she seethed, pulling her hand free. "So self-righteous. I've always _hated_ that about you. All this anger you've held for so many years, and you have the _audacity_ to demand that I be rid of my own?"

Xur kept his stern look, not backing down. "I'm not demanding anything from you. I'm telling you that _I_ will be giving it an honest effort. You're right, I _am_ worse than you, and I'm tired of letting who I hate define who I am."

He reached his hand back out. "I'm asking you to join me."

She was conflicted, he could feel it, and he could only guess it was the respect and love she had for him against the hatred she felt for Cere and now Anakin. Dare he say she felt _worse_ than she ever had before…all her fear of Darth Vader transformed into raw hatred, now boiling and begging to be tipped over.

Xur needed to be firm. He needed to be _deadly_ serious…as she still had not taken his hand.

"What did I tell you?" he asked. "I've been down that road. I'm telling you, there's _nothing_. If you let this consume you, then he _wins_. You understand that, right?"

Trilla's eyes shut as her head fell back against the rest.

"Are you going to let him win, or are you going to fight?"

The zabrak pressed it, even with the help of his influence in the Force, utilizing the connection that had manifested between them as they grew closer. Her hatred was intense, more in her essence now, as the war for her mind had already been won, but if she lost the reclamation of herself, none of it would matter.

When she opened her eyes again, the yellow glow had faded for now, and she took his hand again. "Xur…I will always love you. Just as you said when you went to war, no matter what may happen, you will _always_ have a place in my heart…but that hatred I have…it's all I have left apart from you. You can't ask me to part with it, not after all I've lost."

Xur caressed the back of her hand with his thumb. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe that hatred is what's taking everything away?"

She halted in the middle of her immediate answer, reconsidering her response, and eventually resulted in letting herself fall against the back of the couch again. In a deep sigh, she admitted, "Perhaps."

That was progress, and now he just had to place his bet and watch the table.

"Wait here," he pointed, gripping her shoulder and leaving her at the couch, pacing to the cockpit. Only Greez was there, humming to himself in the pilot's chair. "Hey, Greez."

The latero was stunned by his sudden presence, frantically shaking his head until noticing who had called him. "Wha-what? Oh, hey," he greeted. "You need something?"

Xur cleared his throat. "Yeah. You got any booze?"

* * *

This was the first time Cal had been aboard the _Mantis_ since his master's lightsaber had been destroyed, and to observe it suspended over his workbench was a truly unbecoming sight. Years of serving his master and now protecting him…and it was ruined. How he had managed to crush the crystal with his own bare hands was another mystery, but what was done was done. He had lost himself to the raw power of the dark side, and this was the price.

BD was powered down, allowing himself a much-needed recharge, leaving Cal alone to contemplate it all. He truly had no idea where to go from here…and having Trilla on board was only making him uneasy. That first image of her helmet in the Bracca rain kept reappearing in his head, giving him ideas bred from paranoia. She was here…hurt…_vulnerable_. All of his nightmares could end with one stroke of his lightsaber.

_No…you heard her story. She's not your enemy anymore._

So she said. It was all a moot point in reality. Cal didn't care what she'd gone through, or why she had done what she did. She'd killed Prauf and refused to apologize for it…which was plenty to keep Cal permanently on his toes.

That showed when he jerked towards his opening door, only to see Merrin walking in.

"Oh," he seized, calming himself in her presence. "Hey, Merrin. How'd it go?"

The nightsister shrugged as the door shut behind her. "She is better…but her body is broken," she explained. "I've done all I can."

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, so he merely didn't respond, leaving his saber on his bench and taking a seat on his bed.

"You don't approve?" Merrin asked, her arms crossed.

Cal huffed, his expression narrow. "I believe she can't be trusted. Trilla serves herself before anyone else."

Merrin didn't have an answer, only letting her head droop in thought, as if she was reminded of something unpleasant. "She has experienced great suffering. Perhaps she should be given a chance."

"You don't get it, Merrin-."

"I trusted you when every fiber of my being told me not to," she reminded him, stepping forward. "That is what you wanted, no?"

The red head sighed. "That was different."

"How so?"

"I…" he trailed off, realizing he didn't have much of an argument…until it sparked within his mind. "I didn't kill any of your people, Merrin. She killed a friend of mine and won't even apologize for it."

That seemed to catch her attention, but she wasn't as on board as he'd hoped. "If you were exposed to the same torment she went through, would you be any different?"

Cal was struck silent. He wanted to say yes…but he knew that'd be a lie. He had seen it all for himself, and what Merrin implied was an undeniable reality. Subjected to all Trilla had experienced, he'd be no better.

Merrin seemed to pick up on his troubled feelings, and cautiously took the seat next to him, settling in much more elegantly than he ever did. There was a natural instinct for him to scoot away, but he held firm, freezing himself in place to show a level of comfort with her beside him.

"I did not tell them…but I…_saw_ things in her mind," Merrin admitted, her eyes on the floor. "She has been fighting a war within herself for many years…and is still to this day."  
Cal sighed, leaning forward. "I guess the question is: will she win?"

Merrin mulled his words, and eventually nodded. "With Eon's help…and perhaps _ours_…yes, I believe she will."

He said nothing, too stubborn to admit it.

"When she tears out a bulkhead and tries to kill me again, I'll be there to say I told you so."

The nightsister took a moment to process his words…before giggling, much to Cal's surprise. He looked at her funny instead of joining along, prompting her to stop.

"Sorry…I just thought that was a joke."

"No, no," Cal shook his head. "I've just…never seen you laugh before."

Merrin's eyes narrowed. "If you mean to imply that you originally believed nightsisters do not laugh, I almost feel appalled by that."

_Nice move, Cal. You're a real lady's man._

That reminded him. Now that Xur was here, and Trilla had admitted to her…_activities_ with, who Cal believed to be the zabrak…he could possibly get some tips. The fact that he was able to swipe up a former inquisitor was impressive in itself, so to him, picking up a woman much less insane should be child's play.

_Picking up…what the hell is wrong with me?_

This was getting out of hand.

And Merrin was giggling again.

"What?" he asked, confused.

She only smirked, rising to her feet as she adorably shrugged. "Oh, nothing."

In that moment, she left him to his room, prancing off like a schoolgirl, and he could only watch her go.

_What the fuck is going on?_

* * *

Trilla didn't want to be here.

But she had to.

She could feel it again, that seductive call to the darkness, and based off her passive-aggressive moment in which the Second Sister returned, it would only get stronger the longer it persisted. Xur had been right, she didn't want to admit, and speaking to Cere felt more like wounded pride than anything else. Her hatred for her former master, while strong, had waned since Katarr…but she had no plans on being close to her again.

_Ever._

The liquor Xur had conjured from the latero was meek compared to what she had normally been drinking as of late, but the effects were starting to set in the longer she sat in Cere's quarters. What the zabrak had in mind for the two of them could only be guessed, but she figured it wouldn't be anything spectacular. He understood the necessity for her to express herself, and if some shouting came, he would not intervene.

Yet he promised this would be simply between the two of them.

Cere's door opened, and her former master froze at the sight of her broken apprentice, sitting atop her bed with the glass bottle in her only hand. There was a moment in which their glances did not falter, waiting for the other to leap out and attack, but there was no shift…just a moment of silence as their memories resurfaced.

She grew tired of it.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Trilla began. "He's your kind of Padawan: one naïve enough for you to sell out at your leisure."

Cere said nothing, and she could see the hurt in her eyes as she stepped forward and allowed the door to close behind her, securing their privacy. "Trilla, I-."

"I'm not finished," Trilla pointed, seething. "Do you have any idea what you did when you gave me up?"

Cere's brow arched.

"They _ripped_ me open, pulled out who I was and replaced me with an imposter," Trilla explained, her chin shivering. "And what do you do? You run off and find another apprentice to corrupt and manipulate."

Cere stepped forward. "I have never been more sorry-,"

"I will not hear it-,"

"-about anything!"

"I will _not_ hear it!" Trilla shouted. "You betrayed me! You abandoned me after they had taken _everything_ away from me!

She had no answer, and all Trilla felt was her blinding hatred return, staring serrated daggers into Cere without relent. This was when she truly questioned why she was here…and why her former master wasn't lying dead on the floor, at her feet.

Cere's eyes panned towards the floor, and with the shaking of her head, she said, "Alright. You had your future, and I stole it from you. I will always be your enemy…"

Trilla was unsure where she was going with this.

"So finish it, inquisitor," Cere suggested. "Finish your mission."

The former Jedi Padawan looked upon her former master, an undeniable and insatiable predator instinct arousing within her. Trilla's senses sharpened as she set the bottle aside, freeing her only hand, and clenching her fist. Cere was right there, _vulnerable_ and goading her to do what she'd desired for years: to watch as her life faded away, her hands wrapped around her throat.

And yet she just sat there…staring.

Cere angled her head to one side. "If it weren't for me, you'd have never been found. If it weren't for me, you'd still have a future," she listed, and Trilla's rage only intensified…as did her own. "If it weren't for me, you'd have never shared my torment."

In a quick and sudden move, Cere revealed her hilt, pressing it on her own heart and pulling Trilla's hand to the ignition. "Do it! Finish the mission!"

Her hand trembled in the grip of the hilt, feeling the opportunity of a lifetime presented to her; a chance to finally settle the oldest score on her ledger. Trilla felt her thumb shift up the leather lining and caress the switch, almost toying with her life as she saw fit. To see her eyes fade into the glossy and lifeless embrace of death…the satisfaction…the _freedom_.

And then, she remembered…she remembered Xur's dead body in her arms, his life taken by her own hand, and the indescribable agony that returned. If she drove the blade into her heart…would it be any different? Trilla desperately searched Cere's eyes for a reason, _anything_ to justify flipping that switch, but all she saw was pain, hurt and sorrow…all the exact things Trilla had felt since the day her master attempted to sacrifice herself.

The hatred she felt; that friend she had kept since then…all it had done was torment her, and there was no strength in giving in, not anymore.

Trilla pulled the blade away in a fit of mild disappointment, while Cere let out a quick huff of relief. The brunette shut her eyes and grit her teeth, letting her emotions flow, instead of restricting them. "…_fuck_."

Cere breathed, looking unsure how to react, before stooping in for the bottle Trilla had set aside, taking a drink of her own. She coughed at the strong taste, unable to drink anymore soon after her lips touched the top.

Eventually, Cere placed the bottle on her nightstand and slowly took the seat beside Trilla, who only looked away in a huff, still holding Cere's hilt.

"Trilla…it's over," she said.

She heaved in disbelief, almost stunned by her words. "It is _never_ over."

"Your mission, this _fight_, it's over," Cere reiterated, leaning in. "You're still holding on to that growing darkness within you. Please...it's not too late to let it all go."

Trilla swallowed. "Cere…it's too late for me. I am what I have become. Your Padawan, she's gone…_forever_…"

Her pride was still there, dictating her actions, and even if Trilla could no longer kill her, she would never be her student again…perhaps not even her _ally_. Trust would just never return, not after what they had both been through, at least not in their lifetimes.

Cere reached for something in her side pouch, and Trilla did not see what she revealed until she had brought it into her vision. Her emerald eyes could not believe what she presented…the shining durasteel hilt that she never thought she'd see again, glistening in her mind's eye. Dropping Cere's hilt, she took it into her hand, feeling the natural grip she had crafted herself…and the pleasant memories that accompanied it. It was almost as if they all returned with her touch, and Trilla felt a tear ooze from her eyelids.

"It was the only thing I grabbed on my way out," Cere admitted, and then sighed, her own emotions emerging.

Trilla did not interrupt, her eyes in another place, another time.

"In the years after I escaped…I couldn't forgive myself. I was…a _wreck_, because I had all this _rage_. I hated what they had done to you, but most of all I hated myself. A Master's _only_ responsibility is to protect their Padawan….and I couldn't even do _that_.

"All I…all I wanted to do was _die_."

Trilla let her hand drop, the hilt still tight in her grip, and she finally let her pride go. "There's no hiding from yourself," she added. "I think that's a lesson we've both learned."

Cere nodded in mild agreement, leaning in closer as Trilla allowed her to. "I failed you, Trilla, I know I did. I am so...so very _sorry_."

There it was…what Trilla wanted to hear from the beginning, and almost immediately she felt a part of her cold heart glow once again. The warmth and satisfaction it gave was pure, satisfying relief, and she felt herself let go of the darkness that had ruined her for so long. She would never be a Jedi again…but maybe she could be _herself_ once more.

"I've…" Trilla swallowed as Cere listened. "I've amassed this hatred for you, and it's pushed me along all these years...making me do _terrible_ things. All along, I thought they would bring me solace…but now I see…he was right."

Cere knew who she was referring to. "What did he tell you?"

"He told me that my darkness would never lead to what I seek. I called him a liar…and I…I _killed_ him for it."

Her eyes widened. "What? Then how…"

Trilla's eyes shut as she shook her head with raw emotion. "I brought him back…with my power," she explained, and then lifted her right stump. "But since…"

"Trilla…when someone like you resurrects another…" Cere explained, looking unsure if she should continue. "…you lose your power…_forever_."

_Forever._

That word echoed in her mind, and Trilla could not decide how she felt about that revelation. Her power was the last of its kind…and now it had been wiped from the face of the galaxy…for love. Instantly she felt betrayed by Master Yoda, who had left out that small detail in his appearance…but that was placated by how she had felt when Xur had that smoldering hole through his broken heart.

"When he died," Trilla recounted, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. "I _cried_…the anguish cannot be explained, not when you're the one who kills the person you love most. All my rage had granted me was despair, not _victory_."

"Trilla…" Cere trailed off, finally gripping her shoulder. "What's done is done."

She did not sob; in fact she merely nodded her head. "I know. I don't regret anything…because I know he'd…he already _has_ done the same for me."

Cere nodded in agreement, and that only reaffirmed Trilla's life-altering decision in this moment she'd never thought possible. "He loves you. Even after Zeffo, all he talked about was you…how he thought he had failed you."

_That_ broke her heart, now knowing all he sacrificed.

She sighed, shoring up her emotions and doing her best to remain strong, just as she had vowed. "So what happens now?"

Cere sighed in return; her hands clasped against the edge of the bed. "I don't know."

Neither did Trilla. The shit-heap they were in was only getting deeper, and she was going to have to learn how to swim…_fast_.

She started with reclaiming her bottle and taking another swig, desperately needing to replenish her buzz. "You can come out now, nightsister."

Green energy manifested into the embarrassed form of Merrin in the corner of the room, and Cere's jaw dropped at the sight.

"Sorry," Merrin apologized, her eyes surreptitiously drifting to the door. "Cal wished…he wanted me to…he felt it necessary for us to-."

"Make sure we didn't kill each other?" Trilla filled in for her, taking another drink.

The nightsister cleared her throat, nodding.

Trilla swallowed, only mildly afflicted by the taste. "And…what's your name…again?" she asked, while Cere continued to stare.

"Merrin," she answered, scratching her head. "And you're…_Trilla_…while you are…" she looked to Cere, stumped on the answer.

"I'm Cere," she filled in. "You were there the whole time?"

Merrin looked desperate to reach the door and couldn't find a proper answer.

"_Yep_," Trilla confirmed. "Fair warning, nightsister…I _always_ know when someone is watching me."

"I will…consider that for the future," Merrin answered, quickly opening the door and shutting it behind her. There was a moment of silence, until Trilla slowly began to giggle, and soon enough Cere joined in…allowing the pair to laugh together at long last.

* * *

"No shit, you play?" Greez asked, sitting in the pilot's chair while Xur slouched back in the co-pilot's, turning back and forth.

"Fuck yeah I play," the zabrak answered, referring to sabacc. "Been playing since I was eight. Used to play at the Dark Star Lounge on Coruscant _all_ the time."

"That's crazy," the latero remarked. "I didn't think you Jedi ever gambled."

Xur chuckled. "Yeah, I was a pretty shit Jedi."

Greez laughed at that in a classic "old-man" way. "No offense, but I can tell. I mean, the shit I've seen you do, not to mention _heard_…man, I'm just glad you point all that at the Empire."

"Ha! None taken."

Greez was cool. Xur never thought he'd make a connection to the four-armed latero so quickly, but their interests were much more aligned than he originally thought. Sure, he was blind as all hell to anything about the Force, but he was sure he could talk games with him for hours and never run out of topics.

He didn't realize how much he missed a "dude-friend" until that moment…like Kaidan. Spending so much time with Trilla was no curse, but it lacked that aspect he had shared with his troops back in the day. The way he spoke to his girlfriend was certainly different than the way he spoke to his guy-friends.

"Hey kid," Greez greeted, pulling Xur out of his thoughts as Cal entered the cockpit, looking as if he was searching for something. "Grab some seat. We're having a chat."

Cal looked over his shoulder, and the zabrak narrowed his eyes. "Got something to hide?"

"No, no, just…" Cal began, and then leaned into a whisper. "You gotta help me, _please_."

Xur sighed. "Alright, what did Trilla say to you…"

"No, it's not that," he waved off, scratching the back of his head as he struggled to find the words. "I need to know…how do you…you know…"

Xur cocked his head. "No, I don't."

"Girls," Cal blurted. "Look, I just want to know how."

Greez laughed almost hysterically, while Xur held back his own. "Okay, okay. I gotta know…who? I mean, since the prize jewel aboard this ship has already chosen her partner, that narrows it down pretty good."

"Ugh," Cal groaned in embarrassment. "I just don't get it. It's like I just…freeze up. She never wants to talk…I don't know…_deeper_."

"Cal, that's because you're awkward as hell," Xur answered, genuinely answering this time. "You've got to be confident; own your words. Don't start all at once…just get comfortable, and once you are, start hitting it off. It's really simple."

The Jedi was listening, his eyes pacing away in thought. "So, how about with Trilla? How did you pull that off?"

Xur scratched his head, since all of that had really come naturally. To describe it was like trying to describe sound to someone without ears.

"Well, usually they'll start showing signs that they can't stop thinking about you; giving you gifts, smiling at you a lot, wanting to initiate more physical contact. Hugs are a good sign," Xur pointed. "Yeah, they seem small, but you can tell if a girl likes you just by how they hug you."

"No bad boy demeanor? Come on!" Greez threw in.

Xur scoffed. "Trust me, with this relationship, the bad boy is almost _required_. Honestly it depends on the girl. I'd say most don't like all that bravado. You gotta have chemistry. Crack jokes and tease them a little…just make them laugh," Xur then knocked his head back in bliss. "Let me tell you, there is no sweeter sound than a girl's laugh."

Greez scoffed. "Speak for yourself."

"Don't listen to the cynic, Cal," Xur insisted, even if Cal hadn't shifted his attention, fully focused on what the zabrak was explaining. "Honestly…I think I was able to attract Trilla by challenging her…almost making her chase after me, but that's a very specific situation. Not sure if that's really a good example. In the end, really, the best thing is confidence. Girls like guys who have their shit together. It doesn't really matter if you actually do, so long as you present yourself that way."

"Hm," Cal thought. "Confidence, huh?"

"Pets too," Greez brought up.

Xur snapped his fingers. "Or adorable little droids," he realized. "Holy shit, Cal. You should be using BD to your advantage. I know a girl magnet when I see one."

Cal chuckled. "You're saying to use BD as a wingman?"

"Hell yeah," he nodded.

He slowly nodded, sorting all of Xur's advice before adopting a more confident outlook. "Okay, I think I get it."

"Fair warning…_nightsisters_…" Xur trailed off. "Uncharted territory. I'd watch yourself. Who knows _what_ the fuck they can do to you?"

"I hear that…" Greez chimed in, and then lowered his voice. "Hey, how do we know she's not listening to us right now?"

Now _everyone_ was looking around, and that only ended when there was movement in the back, followed by the sound of distinct laughter. Xur rose to his feet and spotted Trilla and Cere speaking to each other, reminiscent smiles on their faces.

"Would you look at that," Cal remarked, and Xur did his best not to look as emotional but seeing the two of them back together awoke a feeling inside him he wished he didn't have to suppress. Despite everything…Trilla looked so happy to have made up with her former master, just as he thought she would.

Once they said their final words and separated, he met her in the middle, embracing tightly as she smiled brightly.

"You were right," Trilla admitted. "As bloody always."

"You'll have your moments, I'm sure," he said, letting his muscles relax against her body. "I'm glad you're happy."

She pulled away, revealing her stump. "Get me another arm and…well," she leaned in, her voice but a whisper. "…gratitude will serve you nicely."

Excitement piqued, and he wanted to lock his lips with hers, but it felt awkward with so many eyes…and the buzzing of a device he thought dead rattled his belt pouch. Trilla detected it in the close proximity, and when Xur revealed what looked to be an old-fashioned pager, displaying a message on its interface.

"What is that?" Trilla asked, looking down.

"Heh," he chuckled. "Second Sister's worst nightmare."

She only smirked at his subtle shot her way, before sighing. "Is that a…pager?"

"Yeah," Xur nodded, putting it away. "Completely untraceable."

Trilla turned her head, as if waiting for the punchline.

"I know where Saw is."

She looked somewhat conflicted, until a blurt from Greez pulled them out of their conversation. "Uh…we have incoming."

Cal took the co-pilot seat while Xur and Trilla shored up the back, allowing Cere to take her station. "We're in hyperspace," Cere noted. "How the hell could we have incoming?"

Xur sighed to himself, as the circumstances narrowed it down for him. "Drop out," he suggested, which was greeted with confused looks all around. "Only one knows how to do that, and they're not the enemy."

"You sure?" Cal asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

There were tentative and cautious looks shared all around, but Greez eventually pushed the hyperspace lever forward, turning the blue lines into dots against the black canvas of space. With a sporadic scan of their surroundings, it was obvious they were in the middle of nowhere.

"Scanner's still picking up something," Cal relayed.

Cere listened in through her headset, fine-tuning the nob to sync into any known Imperial frequencies. She grumbled in annoyance as she failed to make any meaningful progress, prompting Trilla to stand over her shoulder. After a few moments of observing, the former inquisitor reached forward.

"Here," she said, adjusting her sub frequency nobs to the more updated Imperial standards. Xur couldn't understand much of it, since computer slicing was never his forte, but within a few moments of her working her magic, she stepped back. "Try that."

A few seconds passed, and a smile worked its way across Cere's face. "I've got something. Broadcasted distress code…Imperial."

"I can't get a readout," Cal huffed. "Something is blocking any high-level scans, but its not jamming…more like a bug."

Their predator roared past their starboard, flipping into the viewport and within visible range. Trilla's face brightened.

"That's my ship!"

"_Indeed, Suduri_," Rava chimed in through the comms. "_I've found you, at last_."

* * *

Trilla had never been so happy to see a droid, so much in fact that she fell to one knee and embraced Rava with her one arm once she rolled to the entrance. Rava's domed head moved from side to side until Trilla finally let her go, the VI's optic focused on her missing forearm.

"Your arm is missing," Rava noted. "Why have you not replaced it?"

Trilla narrowed her eyes. "I'm elated to see you as well."

"_Wooooooah_," Cal enunciated, his eyes entranced with the beauty of her ship with BD on his back, scanning the area. "I'm almost jealous."

Rava rolled quickly towards Cal, flashing him with the red hue of her optic. "Don't touch _anything_."

"Alright, alright," Cal eased as Xur walked in, chuckling to himself.

"Don't mind the resident housekeeper. She did the same thing to me," he said, smacking Cal on the back.

"I am far more advanced than a _housekeeper_," Rava insisted. "They do not have the capacity or knowledge to track ships through hyperspace, as I do."

_Do-boop pree?_

"Yes, droid," Trilla answered as she rummaged through her liquor cabinet, which was situated in the main room. "That was her."

BD jumped from Cal's back and scuttled up to Rava, cautiously poking his head forward to get a scan while Cal paced behind Xur to get a better look at the ship. Huffing with impression, followed by a whistle, he crossed his arms. "It's a damn shame this didn't end up in our hands."

Trilla grumbled. "Xur, remind me to get more bottles of Rancor's Gut if we ever got back to Vandor."

The zabrak shrugged as he took a seat. "I'll add it to the shopping list, hun."

"Didn't you just drink half of Greez's alcohol?" Cal asked, and Xur made an edgy face while Trilla slowly turned.

"Ah, so now that I'm no longer pursuing you, you believe you can judge me?" she questioned. "Padawan?"

Cal backed off. "Sorry…"

She wasn't truly upset, but she didn't believe Cal had earned the right to speak to her in any loquacious matter…in fact she still had no desire to exchange words with him at all. For him to question her practices felt like crossing a line, even if it was harmless.

And the _audacity_ anyhow…

"Don't worry about it, Cal," Xur eased. "Just know for next time…don't come between Trilla and her liquor."

After spending time going through the ship at Xur's insistence, even if she wasn't too keen on letting everyone browse her private area, everyone returned to the entrance…with the intention of saying goodbye.

"Shouldn't we stick together?" Cal asked, Merrin and Cere at his side. "I feel like we could do some real damage."

Trilla snorted in amusement. "I don't have time to carry you through a battlefield, unfortunately."

There was silence from her antagonistic comment, until Xur broke the ice. "What Trilla is _desperately_ trying to say is we have a mission of our own, and while we'd love you to join us, we know you're after the holocron. That's too important for you to be sidetracked."

Trilla was plenty content with that, even if there was a lingering desire to get the holocron first. Remnants of her obsessions returned now and then, something that was beginning to get on her nerves, even with the Second Sister lying dead in the field of her mind.

Cere seemed to sense that, still finding it difficult to look her fallen apprentice in the eye. In truth, Trilla still had not fully forgiven her for what she had done, but the hatred…_that_ was gone, and her desire to end her life had disappeared.

But to be locked in the same ship with her…Trilla wasn't ready for that.

Merrin stepped forward somewhat awkwardly. "If this is goodbye, then may I say it was a…_pleasure_ to meet the two of you," she bowed, and Trilla was unsure if she was being sarcastic, or her social skills were truly that poor.

"Ah, you too Merrin," Xur embarrassingly rubbed the back of his neck. "Stay safe, Cal, Cere."

_Deet-deet._

"Yes, and you too, BD," Xur smirked. "Tell Greez we've got to play a round sometime."

With a slight nod and a tentative turn, Cal left the _Fury_ with Merrin in tow, and eventually Cere followed. Trilla felt an urge to call out, and it soon became too much to hold back. To leave on such terms…felt wrong.

"Cere," she called, and her old master turned. "Good luck finding the holocron."

She nodded. "Thanks. I hope you find what you're looking for…and if you ever need anything…" she hesitated, before assuring her final words. "Well, you know how to find me."

Trilla watched her go, her eyes falling to the ground as the airlock shut, leaving her alone with Xur and Rava.

The zabrak nearly burst from held-in laughter.

"What?" she asked, her brow raised.

Xur smirked, still trying to hold back his laugh. "Nothing…it's just…the way you say certain words…"

Trilla rolled her eyes, trying to cross her arms, only to realize she only had one once again. "Which words?" she asked, approaching as her eyelids narrowed.

"Okay. Say _holocron_," he sounded out his own pronunciation.

Her eyes paced away before returning. "Holocron."

"_Holahcrun_," he mimicked.

"That's what I said…"

"I know! That's wrong."

"No it isn't."

"Hun, listen to me," he eased, gripping her shoulders. "Hah-low-cron. Say hah."

"Hah."

"Low."

"Low."

"Cron."

Now it was her turn to mimic, losing her accent. "_Cron_."

"Hah-low-cron. Say it."

"_Holahcrun_."

"Holocron…" he pressed, and this time Trilla shook her head, shaking his hands free from her shoulders.

"And here I thought we would be spending our time alone productively. Oh well. Enjoy stroking yourself off tonight…" she shrugged, walking away.

"Woah, woah, wait!" he chased after her, only to see her turn and raise a pointed finger.

"You wanted to criticize my speech, so now you get to pleasure yourself without me," she then sighed, drawing it out. "What a shame…"

His brow arched in desperation, and she could only giggle internally as she had him tied to a string. "You know what babe, actually, now that I think about it, you're saying it right! Perfect pronunciation."

Trilla couldn't let him off that easy. She stepped forward, letting her lips nearly touch his own as their breaths collided, and just before he fell forward, she stepped back. "I don't believe you."

Before Xur could fall to his knees and beg her to allow him entry into her body, Rava rolled from the cockpit.

"Trilla, I was thinking we should begin constructing your prosthetic," she suggested, which snapped the both of them out of their moment. "I assume that the looks on your faces entails you did not believe this ship to have the resources."

Trilla slowly nodded. "That is a correct assumption."

Rava then rolled towards a room on the port side, which Trilla knew was the small medical area it had. "I shall be waiting."

It was hard to process, looking at her stump once again. Losing her arm was extremely demeaning to her confidence, and without it, she could never be the same lightsaber duelist she was. Seeing that, it was like a part of herself had been lost with it.

Xur was beside her in an instant. "Do you want me there for this, or…?"

Trilla smiled. "Of course I do. It was all a jest, love. Besides…" she let her hand brush over his chest and fall atop his shoulder. "I'd rather have two hands to handle you."

He smiled back. "I could probably use a third in my case."

She giggled and leaned in for a kiss, this one a mix of lustful passion and serenity. "I like my Jedi _scared_."

Xur rolled his eyes. "Well then, scary lady…let's make you even scarier."

* * *

**Hope you guys liked this slower paced chapter. I figured with all the insanity and reveals, this would be better for now. Thanks again for hitting 10,000 views!**

**Next chapter is where we really get it moving towards the endgame...**


	26. Passive Aggression

**CHAPTER 21**

Passive Aggression

"Speak softly and carry a big stick."

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Adrift**

"And together."

Trilla concentrated, and it was almost surreal to watch her new mechno-arm move with her simple neural commands. Her entire forearm was now a black and silver mesh of servos and gears, all working to animate the prosthetic in a near life-like fashion. The hand was even more mesmerizing, watching the pins shift which each movement from her wrist.

She pulled her fingers together per Rava's command, all five digits touching in the middle. The sensation was odd, but to have a second hand that could feel again was incredible.

"Look at that," Xur remarked, watching from the side while Trilla got a feel for her new limb. Rava was held up by a crane mechanism, and had done all the work herself, once again proving her incredible utility.

"It's amazing," Trilla almost gasped, a smile on her face.

"Open again," Rava directed, and Trilla followed. Now the VI revealed a sharp prod, and then poked in various places. She felt every poke, but without synth-flesh, there wasn't much pain to be stimulated unless the pin broke the outer layer of metal. "Good, your interface looks to be active."

Rava applied a few finishing touches, mostly just the casing to hide and protect the extensive tech, and then released her new arm from the bench.

"You're all set, Trilla," she confirmed. "If you wish to make upgrades or add synth-flesh, we will need to commandeer the necessary materials."

Trilla grinned, feeling it with her flesh and blood hand. "Thank you, Rava."

"Of course," the VI tipped her head as she set herself back on the floor and retracted the crane. "I will be in the cockpit if you require anything further."

As Rava rolled away, Trilla slid from her chair while Xur stood. "How does it feel?" he asked. "It looks badass."

She giggled, twisting it around. "It almost feels normal, just when I…" she clasped the metal fist with her left hand. "…do that, it feels like metal."

Xur reached out, and she allowed him to take it into both of his hands, getting a feel for it. "You think you can duel with this thing?"

She scoffed. "I think I'll be _better_ with this enhancement," she reckoned, and then let it feel up his chest, stopping at his heart. Her eyes shut in bliss as its strong beating registered in her senses, letting it glide up to his neck, where she could feel skin. "How's that?" she asked.

His eyes panned downwards in visible disappointment, which wasn't what she expected. "A little cold…honestly. I'm sorry it had to come to this."

Trilla felt her heartstrings pull at his sadness, and with grace, she pulled his dangling black hair back atop his head and inched forward, pressing her _warm_ hand against his face. Gripping his shoulder with the prosthetic, she kissed him gently, and once he caught on, it deepened, becoming the entwining of their tongues. He pressed forward, wrapping his arms around her lithe frame and pulling her closer, feeling her exposed skin as he ripped off his gloves, her bra the only thing covering her upper body. She undressed him to reveal his own as their kiss continued, unleashing the pent-up feelings that had manifested on the _Mantis_, showing each other how deep their love truly was.

When she pulled away, breathing heavily from the exchange, her emerald eyes instilled themselves within him. "If I had to give it all up again to keep you, I would."

He inhaled, breathing in her scent as their foreheads fell together. "I love you."

Trilla smiled. "I know," she said, and they kissed again, letting the motions work themselves out.

* * *

**Destral, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Gunship**

"_Aurora Actual, we're approaching requested drop zone_."

Vorchenko pulled over her protective goggles and slid her helmet over her head, letting the padding settle in over her tied-back hair. It had been a few years since she had seen some personal action, and with her upbringing as a Republic Marine, to say her trigger finger was itching would be an understatement.

"Take us in, fast and quiet," she relayed to the pilot through her commlink, priming her E-11D blaster carbine, flicking off the safety. Once she was prepared, she turned to her two death trooper guards…the only soldiers she trusted for this mission. Understood as merely highly trained units, the two of them were truly a duet of female echani warriors, trained in not only their people's advanced hand-to-hand combat, but also extensively in firefight specialization.

Hence why she spoke Echani to them, a language hardly understood by most of the Imperial brass, which meant neither of them ever used their vocal scramblers. Their pro-human stance served as a crippling weakness in that regard.

"This is stealth and recon. We only go hot if I say so," Vorchenko reminded them. "We only make enemies if we have to. Use of Basic is permitted."

"Understood," the replied in unison, their vocal emulators projecting their voices in a deep, male-like tone.

The gunship shifted as it pulled in, its doors opening to reveal the tropical planet at the break of dawn, and with a commanding wave, the three of them leapt below, into the fray.

* * *

Brutis hated nature…with a _passion_.

Tropical planets were never pleasurable, especially for one who spent most of his time in heavy armor, as the heat would build up underneath the protective fabric and remain trapped as his sweat soaked his garments. Brutis was used to sweat and feeling uncomfortable, as it had never been in his job description to lounge around in the bliss of dry clothes and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The Inquisitorious had never been kind enough to at least grant him a day of that.

The planet he and Petro had ended up on was the first that was off all Imperial star charts, and that was immediately apparent with how little it had been ruined. Insects were vibrant, not exterminated, and there was no smell of industrial smog to wake him up in the morning. What it was called, he had no idea, and could care less.

This would be where their journey would end…for now. He knew better than to expect the Empire to keep its child-molesting hands to itself, but wishful thinking was pleasant…while also dangerously stupid.

Light funneled through the trees above as Brutis used his combat knife to cut a swath through the tall plants and greenery, feeling satisfaction in chopping each of them down, while Petro followed behind, this kid's stolen E-11 blaster across his chest. Not to mention the vibroblade over his shoulder, which was courtesy of an unfortunate market dealer who wished to expose them to the Empire. There was a lot of blood splattered around that shop when that debacle came to an end.

"I hope you had something better in mind than camping out in a rainforest," Petro remarked while Brutis grunted, swinging away. "Who knows what's waiting out there to eat us alive."

"I don't give two shits about wild animals," Brutis grumbled. "You should be more concerned about what you eat. One time one of my mates ate a fruit that turned his skin black."

Petro gulped in disgust. "Did he survive?"

"Of course, then he was bisected by the Jedi we were after two days later. Fucking idiot," he finished the brief tale. "He was one of those _the Empire is unstoppable_ kind of cunts."

"I thought you said he was your _mate?_"

"That's short for squadmate, kid," he clarified. "I don't feel remorse for stupidity."

"I know."

Brutis smirked. "Ah, you _are_ listening to me."

For the soft little Jedi he once was, Petro had grown into a hard ass assassin to be, now able to properly protect himself without being held down by Jedi morals. He still had his adolescent mouth, but that could serve him well, despite how annoying it could be for the former purge trooper to deal with.

Yet he didn't react to Brutis' rare compliment. When he turned back to make sure he hadn't been dragged off, he noticed the young man with his eyes turned skyward and a grim look on his face.

"Fucking hell, what is it?" he asked, coming up beside him and looking through the tree cover. Petro pointed, and Brutis only grumbled at the sight of an Imperial Star Destroyer in orbit. It was such a predictable sight; he couldn't even muster the strength to look upset.

"Fucked in the ass," he remarked.

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

Trilla gasped as the euphoria ran its course through her body, quite literally feeling as if she was being melted into. The sounds she emitted from her mouth were that of intense pleasure, followed by sweet relief as those feelings passed, leaving a blissful grin across her face as she fell forward, her exposed body lying out over her partner. He was breathing heavily, and she could feel his heartbeat at a rate that was perhaps not ideal for his health.

"Oh my…holy _fuck_," Xur gasped, nearly heaving at this point.

Trilla's breathing wasn't any easier, but the look on her face was prepared for more, not to accept death as it is. "Can't handle it?" she sneered, her mouth beside his ear with the way they were entangled.

Xur chuckled. "Trilla…you're like snorting raw zro," he said in simile. Zro was a compound that could be used to enhance focus in Force users but was only used in small doses. However, some unfortunate Jedi in the past had discovered that if they doubled their dose, and were able to fight off the overwhelming wave of senses that came, people earned an impressive high from it afterwards, leading to abuses that still went on to this day. Trilla had noticed various inquisitors addicted to the craze of it, to which she never joined in…as her guilty pleasure was certainly that of alcohol.

And now, it was wreaking havoc upon a man whose battlefield prowess did him no favors under her entertainment. The longest he could ever last…

Well, it was pitiful, to be honest, but she didn't care. In truth, it was all worth it, just to break him down in a form that only benefitted them both.

Xur shook his head. "Did I say three arms? Give me six."

Trilla giggled and kissed his cheek, finally rolling off his body, propping herself on one side to still display herself to him. "Such an incredible warrior…broken down by one woman and a bed."

The zabrak grinned and turned his head, his eyes locking on her chest. "Is this where Second Sister comes out? Don't tell me she's still pissed about me blowing her through a couple of tables."

Trilla laughed out loud, reminded of the first time he had begun his mission, where they both hashed it out in the Fortress dining room. "As first impressions go, I'd say she was moderately impressed, despite the slight embarrassment."

"_Impressed_," Xur mocked shock, rolling over to face her. "She wasn't feeling the hots _already_ was she?"

She shook her head as if to break bad news. "More like murder instinct. I'd say she was feeling the _hots_ for seeing your body impaled through a _spike_," she winked at the end.

"What about in the Tion Cluster, when I heroically saved her from certain death?" he asked, inching forward. "Oh, well, I guess she wouldn't remember that."

Trilla inched forward on her own. "Oh? And why would that be?"

Xur grinned and lifted his fist in front of her face, before mimicking an explosion with his mouth, to which she giggled almost hysterically.

"You're adorable," she remarked.

He blushed, but his confidence did not waver. "And you're literally the sexiest woman alive."

Trilla could barely contain herself when he flattered her so absolutely. It was only a short time ago she was still a broken soul, vomiting on her floor and crying profusely; a drone programmed to kill on command…without feeling, without _anything_. She had confidence, but it wasn't in _herself_. It was in her ability to take life, not who she truly was. There was no celebration of her individuality among the galactic community, or just simply among her peers, which is perhaps one of the more degrading effects of her fall to the Dark Side.

Xur made her feel whole…he made her feel _wanted_, infinitely desirable. He made her want to be _her_, not an ideal figment of her imagination, and she loved him for that. There was so much to their relationship beyond how they were attracted to each other physically. The bond that had formed between them since they were barely teenagers had survived the most devastating attempts to sever it, and now it was stronger than ever.

He reached forward in her state of bliss, letting his hand brush over her hips and down into the dip of her stomach, arousing goosebumps of pleasure wherever his hand went. Instinctually, she reached out with her mechno-arm to do the same, but pulled back, remembering his words from before. Xur seemed to notice her hesitation and took the chance to clasp her false limb in both of his own.

"How do you like it?" he asked, losing the sexual banter for now.

"I want to give it a try, in honesty," she admitted, rubbing its thumb against his fingers. "Maybe crush a man's skull with it."

Xur chuckled at her over-the-top brutality. "I'm sure you'll be able to do some damage," he remarked, and then asked a question she wasn't ready for. "And you and Cere?"

She sighed, not having an answer readily prepared, so she spoke from her heart. "Our problems…they can't be solved within one conversation," she explained, trying to find comfort in his grip. "I'll never be her student again, but…you were right about my hatred. It's time for me to let it go. All it has ever given me is pain…and without it, well, I feel better already."

Xur smiled so brightly he almost looked as if he would cry, and she felt herself melt in it with joy. He confessed, "You have no idea what that means to me, Trilla. That's…everything I ever did, all of it wasn't for nothing."

Trilla sniffled, letting her prosthetic caress his face, her emotions boiling over. "I can't thank you enough for everything you risked. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you."

He grasped her wrist with purpose. "Oh, Trilla, you already have."

"_Thirty minutes to our destination_," Rava chimed in over the intercom, and Trilla sighed.

"Thank you, Rava."

Xur shrugged. "At least I get a break from you."

"Trust me, I know you don't believe that to be a good thing," she smirked, and they kissed hungrily, her moans intense and meaningful as she tasted his love.

When they pulled away, he smirked. "You shouldn't be such a dick to Cal though, hun."

Trilla rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Oh, fuck off with that," she rolled off the bed and fetched her black under suit, beginning to slide it back over her body. "That presumptuous _boy_ deserves everything I give him."

Xur scoffed as he pulled over his pants. "You're the one who chased him across the galaxy."

"For what? A few months?"

"I'm sure you filled his nightmares."

Trilla wasn't as ashamed of that as she probably should be, in fact she began to wonder why she was so unapologetic to him, aside from natural instinct. She grumbled with that realization. "Honestly, sweetheart, I think I just…I'm not sure. I can't display weakness before him."

Xur shook his head. "I think you're still pissed about BD-1 whippin' up that ray shield in your face."

She knew he was kidding, but she was aware of what he was getting at. "If it wasn't for that damn droid…"

"Ah? See!" Xur pointed.

Trilla saw no further point in fighting this losing battle. "Tell you what, and only because _you_ asked, I'll take it under advisement."

Once the two of them had dressed themselves, Trilla needing a full replacement from her endless array of duplicate suits, and Xur settling into the old inquisitor garments he had taken back from the _Mantis_. The toughest part was deciding what to do about her new mechno-arm, but she elected to merely conceal it under her black gauntlet, letting the glove hide the mechanism from view. She found herself observing the sight, almost stunned by how her right arm merely looked normal with the cover.

Then there was her hilt…not the one she had used as the Second Sister…the one she had used when she was Padawan Trilla Suduri, before Inquisitorious, before Emperor's Wrath.

Before she was a _monster_.

The durasteel hilt…it almost mocked her from where it lay, screaming _I told you so_ over and over in an endless cycle. There was an urge that arose within her to crush it under her fist, but it soon faded, reconciled with the shaky faith that she was now reformed…stronger.

_Different_.

"Hun?"

Trilla turned to Xur's voice, snapped out of her trance. "What?"

His head cocked with concern. "You're spending an awful amount of time staring at that thing."

With a huff, she shook her head back into focus, and reached out with her right hand. Using the Force with the mechno-arm felt like a waking limb, taking its time for the energies to manifest from her flesh and blood and into the extension of herself. It wasn't easy, as the Force did not recognize it as one with her yet, but with enough focus, the hilt rattled and jerked into her right hand with a _clap_. The design was perfect for her, its weight aligned with her own center of balance, and she could already feel its superiority.

Trilla ignited the blade with a flick of the switch, and the gold glow cascaded against her skin like the sunrise on a barren moon…breathing life into a dead world once again. With a few flicks of her wrist, she twirled it around, before falling into her ready stance and deactivating it with an exhale.

_Good to have you back, old friend._

The kyber crystal within called to her, and she smiled, hooking the hilt on her left hip.

"You're making me jealous," Xur said, adjusting his glove.

Trilla giggled. "As if I haven't proven myself to you enough…"

It was good to be back…somewhat.

* * *

**Destral, 14 BBY**

**Tropics**

"Heat sigs, two klicks."

Vorchenko tapped the side of her goggles with a single finger, flipping its vision into infrared filter. Unable to confirm her guardian's callout, she twisted the small knob until her vision was amplified enough to magnify the forward area. There were at least six signatures she could pick out, and based off their stances, they were certainly armed. Ducked behind an outcropping of plants in the dense jungle, along with the distance, they had not been spotted.

"Targets spotted," the Admiral confirmed. "Advance along the side and remain safe distance. We need to know where they're camped."

"Copy that," they both seconded.

"_Aurora Actual, come in_," her commlink rang within her earpiece, emitting zero noise. It was the line direct from the _Valkyrie_, which she had ordered to stay silent unless a matter of importance.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"_We have a ship inbound. They had the proper codes, so we cleared them to land_," her Commodore in charge relayed, to which she nigh-seethed.

"I said no air traffic was to be permitted."

"_They also had the code phrase, ma'am_."

Vorchenko paused, knowing that changed the circumstance. "I see. Model?"

"_Razor-Class Interceptor, Imperial model_."

For the first time in a long while, she had been caught off guard. Mixed feelings arose as the reality set in, knowing the owner of that ship…but not the outcome of the skirmish on Katarr. It wasn't quite time for she and Eon's bi-monthly check in, and for safety's sake she had been in the dark since she had revealed his location to Suduri.

Which meant this could either be a blessing, or a terrible curse.

"_Shall I order a pursuit and recall?_"

No, that would be foolish, no matter who was piloting that ship.

"Stand down, Commodore. I shall deal with it," she ordered, shutting off the comm and shoring up her blaster rifle. "Stay vigilant. We could be receiving a powerful ally or dangerous adversary."

"Will be ready either way, ma'am."

* * *

"What are we going to do?" Petro asked while he and Brutis paced back the way they came, the former purge trooper stomping through his cut path.

"We're going to leave this fucking planet _now_," he grumbled.

"And do what?" the former youngling challenged, his annoyance bristling as well. "Hide someplace else until they find us again? How long will that be? Two days until we're doing this again?"

Brutis said nothing, focusing on his stomping and trying to drown out his voice.

"One day we're going to have to fight back!"

He stopped and turned, making Petro grind to a halt before him, looking up to Brutis' towering height. "The day you fight back is the day you _die_," he growled. "We're going back _now_."

"You trained me how to fight," the boy pointed. "Let me fight!"

Brutis merely chuckled to himself in mockery, turning back down the path. "You know what? Go on. Go on and fight! Maybe after a few days in the lightning rod you'll understand it."

"They won't catch me!" Petro assured, trying to catch up to his increasing pace. "I've learned so much!"

"Not enough," he denied, even if he agreed with what he was saying. Petro was getting better, but he was only really a match for a slow and sloppy inquisitor, not a dogmatic and precise one…like the one he used to serve.

It was almost fate to witness what he saw next, and he shoved Petro aside before they breached the jungle clearing, the boy grunting in annoyance from the fall.

"The hell?" he protested.

Brutis shushed him with one raised finger…and pointed through the trees.

* * *

Trilla stopped the flow of water from her sink once her glass was filled, proceeding to take a large gulp that revitalized her parched tongue. Gasping for air and moving to refill it, she pulled open her drawer as she felt the ship touch down, fumbling through it until she found a capsule pill wrapped in plastic. After another truly brilliant experience with her partner, it was almost instinct to prepare the contraceptive, swallow and forget…but as the water refilled her glass, she found herself pausing.

She hated it when she hesitated, especially with a practice so simple and borderline required in her current state of affairs. It was foolish to even consider such a thing, a burden so undeserved and frankly unwarranted.

But how could it be undeserved?

Over the course of her life, she had been dominated by her preconceptions, whether it be what happened with Tano on Tranbir IX, Xur's faked death or her own faith in herself. Now it seemed no different, just another question she had never bothered to ask herself, one she thought had already been answered for her.

She toyed with it between her fingers, and then felt her free hand rub against her stomach. It wasn't possible…not with all she had suffered…all she had _lost_. To gain something…felt unnatural…something so precious that only the gifted ever earned.

_Who's to say I'm not gifted any longer?_

Trilla had told Xur that she would always love him, that he would always have a place in her heart…and she _meant_ that. Even in the Force, she knew they were meant to spend the rest of their lives as one, and the connection they now bore was virtually invincible.

What better way to test their bond?

With a nod to herself that denoted a leap of faith, she dropped the pill back into her drawer and shut it.

Her hand remained on her stomach as she smiled to herself, satisfied with her risky decision.

Once she finished applying sparse makeup to project herself, she stepped out of her room to Xur pacing out of the cockpit, Rava rolling beside him and protesting, "I am not your housekeeping droid. I shall accompany you if I wish."

Xur grumbled and pointed sternly at the short VI. "Last time we left you here, we were able to keep our ship from being boosted, not to mention the fact that you _found_ us. If anything it's a compliment."

"It is an _insult_ of my proper capabilities," Rava's red optic flashed in a state of annoyance. "Anyhow this is not _our_ ship, it is _hers_."

Trilla rubbed the back of her neck and shrugged. "I'm sorry, what?"

The zabrak noticed she was there and gave her a don't-worry-about-it smile, which had the opposite effect on her interest. "Rava and I are just going over our duties to the ship."

"Like hell," Rava growled, opening her shock prod compartment. "Besides a source of erotic pleasure for this ship's captain, I don't see your extended use to this crew."

Trilla groaned with discomfort. "Rava…"

Now Xur was getting frustrated. "Ok _ball_, even with all your superior intelligence you don't have the sense to acquire a superior _platform_."

"Platform? This stealth model allows me to take advantage of a key organic flaw: _underestimation_, which you are falling prey to as we exchange words."

"Are you kidding me? I'll drop kick you into orbit."

"No you won't," Trilla pointed in warning.

"And I'll put you into cardiac arrest," Rava shot back.

"Enough!" Trilla growled, pushing Xur back with a stern shove and kicking Rava away. "What's the bloody problem?"

"Your mate wants to leave me on the ship," Rava explained, looking up to her, while Trilla then focused her attention to Xur, prompting him to confirm.

"She can…you know…make sure the engines are ready to go," he seconded. "It worked last time…"

Trilla huffed and stepped forward, crossing her arms. "You told me we were meeting your friend here…and then when the Valkyrie detected us, it was Rava who got us through."

"I told you we don't have to worry about the-."

"To which you have not explained to me why," Trilla continued, her head cocking. "The way I see it, the ledger is not in your favor."

He cleared his throat, unsure how to answer. "But-."

"She is coming, sweetheart," she decided, placing her hands on his chest. "My ship, my rules."

Her touch had the desired effect, and he smiled back. "You're the boss, hun."

"Indeed I am," she planted a quick kiss on his cheek and headed to the boarding ramp. "Although, you will need to lead the way."

"Oh, no need to worry about that," Xur answered, giving Rava a threatening show-up move, to which she sparked her prod before leaving it be.

As soon as Trilla's boots hit swampy dirt, she already hated this place, looking ahead to the tree line where the jungle began. Sighing as footsteps pounded behind her, she crossed her arms. "Guerra better be here."

"He will," Xur promised while Rava rolled ahead, scanning the area. "Everything is going as planned."

"What do you mean _as planned?_" she questioned, becoming more frustrated by her lack of information. "You still have not told me why I shouldn't expect to be shot at on sight. He hasn't seen my face, but he knows my voice…and I've uprooted his operations before."

"I'm not going to let any of them shoot you, Trilla," he assured.

"Your assurance is not good enough-,"

"Trust me, Trilla."

"I have!" she grasped his shoulder in bristling annoyance. "But despite all your words, you still do not trust _me_."

"I can't trust _anyone_ with this information," he stepped forward, his expression sincere. "There are _eyes_ everywhere…you know this. Any reveal I give to you is another chance for the Empire to uproot everything I've tried to build."

Trilla grit her teeth. "But I want to be a part of it."

"And you _will_," he grasped her shoulders gently. "But you're a new piece…a new player, and new assets, no matter who they are, have to prove themselves."

The words he spoke…instantly she regretted her earlier decision, one only made such a short while ago.

"Is that all I am to you? An _asset?!_" she growled, freeing herself from his grip.

"You're _everything_ to me, Trilla," he promised…and she knew he was telling the truth, despite her distaste. "But I'm not the one you have to convince."

Trilla believed him, but she still was not satisfied regardless. For these people he spoke of to believe she had to earn a place at their side was intensely arrogant, not to mention presumptuous. She had never negotiated with insurgents, and even when their interests seemed to align now, they should be _gracious_ that she would even consider to aide them. The Second Sister had killed hundreds of them by her own hand, and they were lucky she did not turn her blade against them now.

If they did not accept her, then she would not accept _them_.

"If they are expecting me to fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness, they will find me a most dangerous opponent," she assured.

Xur seemed to be content with that, to her surprise. "As I told you, no more apologies. If Guerra has a problem with you, I will handle it."

"If the two of you are done bickering, I suggest we move out," Rava said, her scan completed. "I'm detecting multiple heat signatures. It appears this may be the correct planet after all."

Trilla shrugged. "Ah, and we wouldn't have known that if it weren't for Rava being here, would we?"

"Kiss my ass."

"Hm," she hummed, beginning her walk with Rava rolling alongside her. "In your dreams."

* * *

Brutis growled at the sight of his old commanding officer, and he could already feel his hand twitching for his electrohammer.

"That's _her_…and him!" Petro shout whispered.

"For _fuck_ sake, shut your hole," Brutis scolded. "That harpy can hear _anything_."

"You're the one-,"

"Shut it!"

* * *

Trilla could sense someone out there, but she did not pause, deciding to goad her observers into a foolish action…a trick she had used many times. Looking down to Rava, she spoke in Old Corellian, "_Minmin senho du ecvid Ohna nin_."

"Yes, I know," Rava replied, confirming.

Xur groaned. "Are you doing that because you're mad at me?"

She smirked. "Maybe."

* * *

"What the fuck did that bitch just say…" Brutis mumbled to himself, barely a whisper while he and Petro watched them from afar. "I swear if you draw her over here…"

"What the hell happened to her?" Petro asked. "She looks so…different."

"You don't even want to know, but if you open that shit-spilling mouth again, I'm going to beat your fucking ass," he warned. "Stay quiet and follow me."

* * *

Trilla blew her hair from her face in mild disappointment, stopping momentarily to turn back to Xur.

"Do you have the slightest conjecture what you're walking us into?" she asked, to which he stepped through her, looking frustrated.

"Of course I do," he spat.

The brunette mock sneezed. "Oh dear, I believe I have come down with my dreadful allergy to bullshit."

"You're fucking relentless."

Her ears perked as she detected slight movement beside them, but once again ignored. "Rava, _ili Bey fermi_."

"I know," Rava once again seconded.

The zabrak sighed heavily, turning back to face her. "Trilla, look, I'm sorry about all the bullshit we talked about. Now, will you please let it go?"

Her smile grew with joy at getting under his skin without even trying, or purposefully intending to, and she saved that trick for later. Although, with the current setting, she needed him in on what she was entailing as well.

"_Cad olyay adate shekemir mhi_, darling," she eased in Mando'a. "That's all I was telling her."

Xur grumbled, still looking upset. "Still, you're making me feel left out."

"Oh?" she narrowed her eyes. "Now you know how I feel."

Now he gasped with exhaustion, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, Trilla, you're like a mental terrorist."

She giggled almost manically, reminiscent of the Second Sister. "If only I knew who you really were back in the day," she leaned in. "I would've broken you down within a week."

"I don't deny it."

* * *

Brutis kept his eyes forward, watching Trilla and Xur followed by their droid traverse the jungle, keeping his profile low to hide his large body. As a tree trunk stood in the way of his vision, however, when he regained sight of them, Trilla was no longer there.

"Shit. Kid…" he turned, and Petro was gone.

_Fucked in the ass_.

* * *

Petro couldn't find Trilla. She had simply disappeared after he lost sight of her for only a moment, and he was left to just staring at Xur's back as he continued to walk. Forgetting about her, he creeped forward, tired of waiting for Brutis to make up his mind about what to do.

A strong hand grabbed him by the back of his collar and pinned him against the nearby tree in a flash. It happened so quickly he barely had any time to react.

"Going somewhe-…_Petro?_"

His vision focused, and it was Trilla, looking upon him in shock as her right hand held him back. She was still taller than him, despite his growth spurt, but this strength seemed _unnatural_.

Petro chuckled to himself. "Heh…hey Trilla…nice to see you?"

The look on her face was that of intense shock, and after a few moments, a tear rolled down her face until she pulled him into a tight embrace. He felt himself slightly suffocate in her grip…but so close to her body…he _blushed_.

"I thought they'd get you too…" she sniffled, pulling away as she wiped her tears away. "You did as I asked?"

He was confused…Brutis had said she was an inquisitor, and she seemed to dress like one, but she had her Jedi hilt at her belt…not to mention the fact that she hugged him instead of trying to kill him.

"Y-yeah," he stammered. "I…got away. It wasn't easy…what about you?"

Trilla's face fell, before becoming somewhat hardened. "I was…not so lucky. It's a long story. How'd you get here?"

Petro cleared his throat, finding his eyes unable to look her way out of bashful embarrassment. "Ah, _well_…"

"With _me_," Brutis finished for him, emerging from the brush with his electrohammer held across his body.

Hearing his voice again, Trilla wasn't sure how to react. Her old second-in-command looked no better than he had before; a tall, now bearded human male with the hexagon pattern scar on his cheek. To say they hadn't left on the best of terms was just blatantly incorrect, and the expression he bore was certainly hostile.

And she wasn't feeling so friendly around him either.

"With _you?_" she echoed, dropping Petro from the tree. "You're telling me after all you had done…you _adopted_ a youngling?" she tried not to laugh in mockery.

"Mock me all you wish, honey-tits," he growled. "I thought I told you to go fuck yourself."

"I thought you said she was an _inquisitor_," Petro retorted, making no movement to join him.

"_Was_," Trilla stated flatly, her gaze never leaving Brutis as he stepped back with distrust. "What? Scared of me?"

"You know what _doesn't_ scare me?" he spat. "Two-faced cock suckers like you. You think you're fooling anyone with this act?

"You're a liar. A pathetic, broken whore with no other purpose other than to suck the life out of everyone around you."

Trilla's teeth grit behind her lips as her metal fist clenched, and it took everything she had not to charge forward. She had never forgotten what he had said to her on Zeffo, and she vowed to never let anyone disrespect or demean her so absolutely ever again.

"Consider your next words carefully," she shivered with rage, her gloves whining from her fists' grasp.

"Eat shit and die slow, harpy."

_Enough._

She hit him with the most powerful Force push she could muster, which only made him stumble in his prepared state, but she leapt forward with her yellow blade ignited, her roar echoing through the jungle. Her blade landed at the cross section of his electrified hammer, and with a heavy grunt, Brutis shoved, his strength and force plenty to make her stumble backwards. He swung his hammer with a deep scream before bringing it down, the impact rumbling the ground as Trilla fazed out of the way. Knowing better than to kick the immovable man, she swung for the killing blow, only to see his forearm halt her own with his immense strength.

But she did not let up.

The new prosthetic power bulged his eyes in shock as she pushed up against him, her teeth threatening to crush themselves as she then began to scream from the effort. Brutis felt his beard singe as her blade approached his skin, and desperation kicked into gear. Dropping his hammer, he used his now free hand to pull her weaker left arm away and grunted beneath the strength of her right.

Knowing she had lost her advantage, she delved into the darker natures of the Force and found new strength, her eyes searing yellow as she began to push back against her Force-blind opponent.

"There it is," Brutis grimaced as her power increased. "There's that face. You haven't changed at all."

Trilla screamed in denial, freeing herself and engulfing him in force lightning that only arced from her left hand, and immediately she felt as if it had been dipped in molten carbonite. Shrieking in agony while Brutis collapsed, she fell to one knee as her mind drifted backwards, the images of everything she had suffered flashing before her in an instant.

_You are mine._

"_NO!_" she shouted in vain, trying to retake control of her scattered brain. "No, no, no!"

_You haven't changed at all._

She heaved, her crazed eyes locking on Brutis as he sat up, shaking off the paralyzing effects. "What do you know?! You could never understand! I _have_ changed!"

When she saw the look he gave her…it wasn't smug or of mockery…it was of sadness. His eyes said it all. The demeanor he maintained was stoic and unfeeling, but beneath she sensed a deep sorrow…a terrible burden.

"Trilla!" Xur's voice snapped her out of her trance as the pain from her hand began to ebb away. She was quickly pulled into an embrace, and she accepted it fully. "What happened?" he asked, pulling away.

She saw him notice Brutis, but he said nothing, his attention fully on her answer, and she knew he needed the truth.

"I…I snapped," she admitted. "I…"

"Incoming," Rava warned, and instantly there was a massive amount of commotion, an entire platoon with the biome's camouflage emerging from all directions with blasters pointed. No one made any moves to attack, and Petro was quick to raise his hands in surrender.

"Get your fucking hands up!" the closest to them ordered, and Trilla couldn't help but notice the same insignia she had seen in the Tion Cluster…back when they had investigated the Greater Imperium. When they didn't comply immediately, Trilla probing Xur for his action, as her instinct was to get up and start hacking them all to bits.

"Relax…we're all on the same side," Xur eased, raising his hands, prompting her to do the same.

"Is that right?" another voice asked from behind, and Xur's eyes bulged with recognition. Saw Guerra held his blaster at the ready, his armored suit looking no better than it usually did as he approached. "Based off the company you keep, I'm not sure I can believe that anymore."

His stance was hostile, and Trilla was already probing the battlefield, taking note of position and possible flanking points.

"Saw, it's me," Xur urged. "The mission…remember?"

"Oh I remember," he nodded. "I also remember all the men I've lost to the Second Sister, not to mention Commander Brutis, who isn't far behind…so you better have a good reason for expecting me to trust you with her at your side."

Xur was getting frustrated, and she only prepared herself further. "She's with us now."

There were murmurs of disbelief among the men and Saw made no move to stand down. "She doesn't look like she is."

"Saw, if I wanted to, I could get up and kill every single one of you," he assured, and blasters only shifted closer. "You know I could…but I'm not. I'm telling you."

He had backed Saw into a corner, she could tell, as the battered insurgent knew he was telling the truth about his capabilities…and he hadn't even seen what the zabrak had done on Ordo Eris.

"Sir let's just shoot them and be done with it," the soldier beside him suggested, and Trilla knew better than to open her mouth.

"No one is shooting Xur Eon," Saw proclaimed, and then seemed to back down. "You're coming with us, but everyone else is getting binders."

Trilla could feel his sparking rage at having her submit to more chains, and she grabbed his shoulder in assurance. "It's alright…I'll do it…for _you_."

Xur still didn't seem to like it, but he sighed. "Fine…" he accepted, but raised his finger as soldiers moved in. "But if she is harmed, undignified or sullied in _any_ way, you'll answer to me…and I promise you, you _will_ regret it."

Saw gave the signal. "Take them away."

Before Trilla submitted to her bonds, he embraced her tightly once more, and whispered, "If they hurt you, you know how to call me."

Trilla leaned into his ear as she kept her arms wrapped around him. "I know…and they won't. I love you."

"I love you too."

Once they pulled away, a soldier presented the binders and clipped them over her wrists, while also taking her blade from her belt. She wanted to crush his skull simply for that, but she had to trust in Xur…she had to give him the time he needed.

Even if she didn't know for _what_.

* * *

**This one was kind of all over the place, but hope it was easy to follow. We're in the great game now. Power moves are incoming…**

**Stay healthy and stay rational. Thanks for staying with this story through these tumultuous times in our world. I shall continue to keep you entertained while we all hide in our homes.**

**Thanks for reading. See y'all soon.**


	27. Chaos Breed

**CHAPTER 22**

Chaos Breed

"Why have enemies when you can have friends?"

**Destral, 14 BBY**

**Imperium Camp**

"The intel you sent to the Admiral all those months ago paid off," Saw explained, leading Xur through the clustered and hidden camp within the Destral jungle. It was crudely assembled, with little more than a massive tarp serving as a roof until they reached a cave entrance, illuminated by set up light sources. Rag-tag soldiers passed by with their weapons in hand, and the zabrak figured they were the next patrol shift or simply were headed to training. "Your friends from the 502nd saw to that. They were the ones who found this place."

"Is it everything those files said?" he asked, ducking over a low clearance bar as he followed. "Honestly, I hope this isn't their base of operations."

"Just an outpost, like the one you and your war criminal girlfriend found in the Tion Cluster. We've secured a mutual threat alliance for now, but they won't even tell us where they get their funding and weapons…only that they have a 'Benefactor'," Saw continued, and Xur couldn't help but notice the technology level suddenly increase, even if his mood was soured by his needless shot at Trilla.

"A Benefactor, huh?" he asked rhetorically, noting the advanced computer systems and cleaner clothing from those who worked them.

"That isn't even all," Saw revealed, walking past a massive holotable with a map of the galaxy projected, certain star systems pinpointed all throughout it. "There's something else…but I'd prefer you hear it from them."

As they approached the back section of the cave, stepping over massive cables and coming to a cut-out door, Xur paused. "I meant what I said about Trilla, Saw. I'm trusting you with her."

The battle-hardened veteran growled to himself, stopping his walk to address the zabrak directly. "You're playing with _fire_ bringing her here. If it were up to my men, they would've shot her, _no_ questions asked. The only thing keeping that woman alive is the respect I have for you, and what you've done…and I haven't even brought up how the Imperium already feels about her."

"She's one of _us_, Saw," Xur implored. "For fuck sake she's another _lightsaber_ we get to add to the field. You know how big that can be."

"Is it that, or is it because you're in love with her?"

Xur paused, for some reason not prepared for him to stoop that low, even if it made sense in retrospect. "What does it matter if I am?"

"Because something tells me she's only in it for you…and that's _best_ case," Saw explained, leaning in to bring his voice down. "Worst case, she's a sleeper agent for the enemy, just waiting for her time to strike, which _I _find most likely."

The zabrak tried to stay impartial, but he couldn't.

He loved her too damn much.

"You don't know _shit_ about her," he growled. "She's suffered things you couldn't even _imagine_, and she's _pissed_…ready to strike back at the Empire for all the fucked-up shit they did to her."

"Eon-,"

"Either you can join us on our warpath, or get out of the way," Xur stated with finality. "Your choice."

Saw only respected guts, and had no time for platitudes or careful maneuvers, which was why he came at him so strongly. In the end, if Trilla showed she had the tenacity to tear the Empire down, Saw would be on board in a heartbeat, and Xur would stake his life on that.

He just needed to see it.

"We're not making any decisions right now," Saw shook his finger. "For now, you need to see this."

* * *

Giving Xur the time he needed was becoming a less favorable decision by the minute, as were the looks she was receiving from some of the male soldiers around the base. That wasn't really anything new, even when she was the Second Sister, although with a mask and cape it wasn't as easy to discern her as female.

In a place such as this, where most of the fighting force seemed to be male, adrenaline was certainly pumping with the stakes so high, and after a tough fight, anything with tits looked good to man. For some reason Imperial soldiers would sometimes believe her to be stocked just for them.

They learned the truth…permanently.

And yet that didn't stop her superiors, and to kill them was unhealthy in her state as a "mystic". Ever get out of line and she'd be persecuted just like the rest, so she had to suffer many unwanted fingers over her body in her lifetime. Now that she was out, however, she could pay some old debts to shore up the ledger.

Stuck behind bars was better than being tortured, but submitting to these cave dwellers felt demeaning to her image…and being in the same cell with a man she used to give orders to, and now certainly wanted to kill her, only made her feel more on edge.

On top of all that, Petro wouldn't stop sneaking surreptitious looks her way.

The fifteenth one got on her nerves.

"Found something you like?" Trilla asked, her bound wrists hanging through the bars as she stood, her eyes piercing into Petro like serrated blades through flesh. He sat in the corner of the cell fiddling with his hands as he looked away, until eventually realizing he should acknowledge her comment.

"What?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, looking back through the bars at the empty passageway. "You think I haven't caught you staring at my tits yet?"

Petro flushed red. "Sorry."

Part of her felt bad, since she understood what a teenager such as him would be going through, but she needed him focused in case things went sour. Why she _cared_ about getting him out of here was another question she asked herself, but it just felt…natural.

_Jedi instincts…_

Those, in her mind, were just as destructive as her instincts to harm others. She wasn't here to save anyone, in fact she was only concerned with her own survival, as well as Xur's. From her perspective, that was all that mattered in the grand scheme, and if these people stood in the way of seeing him again, they would stand aside, or they would _die_.

_All_ of them.

Brutis hadn't said a word since they had been placed in their cell, and she was starting to wonder why he even cared to comply.

"Why take the boy, Commander?" she asked, truthfully trying to keep her mind occupied. Petro seemed to take offense to the way she addressed him, but she ignored it, waiting for her former constituent to answer her question.

She was waiting a long time, and he never did.

Petro was staring at her again.

"I know you think I don't see you, but believe me," she turned, and Petro jerked his head away once again. "I _do_."

She sensed his annoyance spike, and then he suddenly lashed out. "Well, when you don't want to respect me, I don't feel like I should have to respect you."

"Oh?" Trilla seethed, and then marched forward, fighting off his resistance with ease before pinning him against the wall, even with her wrists bound. As he struggled, she growled, "Still think so?"

His defiance faded in an instant, and there was distinct terror in his eyes at the sight of her expression, as well as the feeling in the Force she emitted as her annoyance manifested into rage. She had no idea why she was so angry, but she didn't care…she needed to let it out.

"What…_happened_…to you?" he grunted as she held her forearm across his neck.

"You remember what I told you?" Brutis finally spoke, and Trilla turned to his voice. The bearded man kept his distant expression towards the bars, making no move to free his travel partner. "Lightning rods?"

Petro's expression loosened as Trilla's grip fell weak. "Yeah…but you didn't tell me…"

Trilla had no idea what he was getting at, but she could only infer.

"Your little guardian here," Brutis began, now looking their way. "Was captured after she told you to run for your little shit life. Once they had her, and the black armored prick couldn't get what he wanted out of her, they strapped her to a lightning rod."

Trilla's eyes shut as her teeth grit.

"What you're looking at is what the Empire does to people like you. If I hadn't rescued you on Rhen Var, you'd be just like her, suffocating horny teenagers for staring at her ass too long."

"Will you _fuck off?_" Trilla growled.

"You want to know why I deserted on Zeffo?" he didn't let up, his intense stare enough to frighten a jotaz. "Because after Xur Eon kicked your bubbly ass, along with your entire bloody platoon, you just exposed yourself as a fraudulent leader. After that, _everyone_ knew you were just an empty sadist with no purpose other than to wet yourself with the screams of others. It got _old_, Sister."

"That _isn't_ who I am anymore!"

"Like hell. You're doing it right now," Brutis stated flatly. "You tell me you've changed, and yet here we are."

_You're doing it right now._

_He has abandoned you._

_He has forsaken you._

_He cannot save you here._

_ You_

Trilla grimaced as the words flooded her mind again, the experience she suffered in the Fortress, every indignity she had ever gone through at the hands of the Empire…and she felt herself slipping. Her grip fell from Petro's neck as her eyes glossed over, and her reality became warped, trauma replaying itself endlessly…her throat drying as she emitted her screams.

_Are_

This was how it started…how it always started. The pain…the suffering…the anger and the hate. They were the four pillars that had brought the Second Sister to life, and they all had been broken…the Second Sister was dead.

Or was she?

"Trilla, I'm sorry," Petro apologized.

She felt her focus return momentarily, but her struggle was still intense.

"After what had happened, I spent years wondering what had happened to you," he revealed. "I was pretty sure you were dead, as I could no longer feel you in the Force anymore…but my connection has never been very strong anyway. Part of me thought you had escaped and were still looking for me.

"But knowing this…I should've helped you. I should've at least tried!"

She blinked, and her emerald gaze cleared. "Petro…"

He looked as if would burst into tears, and she felt her heart break. "You sacrificed yourself so I wouldn't be captured. I should've never let you."

"What's done is done," she said, drawing his gaze. "I made my choices…and now I have to live with them."

Her answer seemed to give him hope, and his confident determination that she remembered returned in some regard. "Well, you don't have to do it all by yourself."

She chuckled. "That's sweet. I'd hug you, but…" she raised her binders.

"You…would?" he asked, and she gave him an admonishing look as his face reddened again. "…sorry."

A door opened in the pathway, and Trilla's head darted to the direction footsteps came into play. It was almost agonizing to wait, but eventually her expression brightened as Xur came to the bars…and then was riddled with confusion and preparedness when the next figure revealed themself.

"_Admiral?_" she questioned as Vorchenko came up beside him…and Xur wasn't in cuffs. After her moment of confusion passed, everything settled into place, and she could only sigh to herself in disappointment. "I…_fucking_ knew it."

Brutis didn't look so secure, already prepared to start bashing heads. "Knew it? Knew what?"

"Pleasure to see you again, Suduri," the Admiral greeted, her expression that of always, with her hands behind her back. "And you, Commander Brutis. I am here to inform you that you will be immediately released from this dreadful cell."

"And shipped back to the Empire in a box?" Brutis challenged. "I think I'll take my bloody chances with these shit-cunts."

Xur scoffed. "Trust me, you _want_ to come with us."

"_Us?_" Petro questioned. "She's-."

"Been the one pulling the strings the entire time," Trilla deducted, rising to her feet. "_You_ orchestrated his death _and_ his transformation…then lead the entire Empire on a wild bantha chase while he infiltrated the most secure fortress in the galaxy."

Vorchenko tipped her head. "All correct."

Trilla's eyes looked to Xur. "The pager?"

"Yup," he nodded, struggling to contain his laugh.

Her head drooped as she sighed, leaning against the bars. "Fuck _me_."

"Don't feel so down," another voice came in from below, and Trilla watched Rava roll up beside the Admiral. "That wasn't even the worst part."

Trilla scoffed. "Well _you_ were a little obvious."

"And yet here we are."

The former inquisitor shook her head, wiping her eyes in a natural reaction to her embarrassment, letting her arms slap against her body as she dropped them. Silence followed as they observed her, waiting for her reaction, but she had none to give. Instead, her eyes turned to her devious boyfriend.

"I'm going to hit you…_really_ fucking hard," she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"What if I took those cuffs off? Would you forgive me?" he asked, and Vorchenko revealed the pin necessary to achieve that feat.

"Hm," she shrugged. "Perhaps that is enough," she offered her wrists, and with a twist, the Admiral had her arms free. Massaging the one of flesh and blood, she turned back to Xur. "For now."

"Let us meet on your ship," Vorchenko suggested, just as her two death trooper bodyguards walked up, E-11D carbines across their chests. "We have much to discuss."

"What about us?" Petro asked as Xur opened the door, embracing Trilla once the opportunity presented itself.

"Both of you have just been exposed to a truth that if spread, would be detrimental to my life and position…which means you must come, or be silenced," she laid out, and Petro looked to Brutis, who seemed to be indifferent at this point.

"Whatever."

"Excellent," she tipped her head. "Rava, if you will lead the way."

"Of course."

* * *

**Ilum, 14 BBY**

_**Stinger Mantis**_

Cal had been gone longer than Merrin was comfortable with. Cere insisted that there was no current Imperial presence on this icy and desolate world…to which Merrin found herself struggling to stay warm…but her natural instincts told her otherwise. Maybe it wasn't the Empire, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he might be in trouble.

This resulted in her fidgeting on Greez's couch, her eyes moving rapidly as her mind drifted outside the ship, unable to keep her thoughts singular. She had never been particularly good at sitting still anyhow or dealing with feelings she had of others. Since _it_ happened, she had found it difficult to open herself up again; to allow herself to care for someone, just to watch them being taken away. The emotional agony she had felt at the demise of her sisters was permanently scarring, and since she found herself becoming a recluse, which truthfully was beyond her control.

Even sitting across from Cere was somewhat disconcerting.

"Something is wrong," she blurted, unsure how else to place it.

Cere was half asleep, and her comment only seemed to open her eyes somewhat, the former Jedi rubbing her eyes clear. "What?"

"Something is wrong," Merrin repeated, her eyes towards the floor.

Her words seemed to finally register within her, and Cere was suddenly alert, her focus singular. "Something is wrong with that?"

"It's Cal," Merrin revealed, trying to trace the root of her unease, and only discovered feelings…not a precise answer. "I can sense he is…distressed."

Cere wasn't as worried as she should be.

"Tell me, Merrin. What do you know about Jedi?" she asked.

Merrin didn't answer immediately, truthfully confused as to the need for such a question to be asked. "What do I know about…Jedi?"

She nodded.

"Well…they have a connection to the _Force_, as you call it, and they use lightsabers for melee combat," Merrin answered, and realized that was all she had.

Cere nodded slightly. "Those are the basics, but with everything, there's a little more to it than that."

She wasn't in much of a mood for a history lesson, and Cere seemed to notice that.

"Long story short, for a Jedi, they come here to be tested, and especially when seeking a new kyber crystal, its normal for a Jedi to feel distress," she explained, which didn't make Merrin feel any better.

"What if he is in danger?" she questioned.

"Then it is the will of the Force…" Cere trailed off, and Merrin noticed her eyes pacing away, becoming distant. Something told her that her crew mate did not even believe her own words…and after eavesdropping on the conversation she had with the black-haired woman, Trilla, Cere had seemed more unsure of her own teachings. Her role was now mostly of encouragement for Cal, and less teaching, and Merrin could only guess that whatever conflict she once had with Trilla was still actively plaguing her.

The nightsister had only known her for so long, but she hadn't been the same since that conversation.

"You feel you need to help him," Cere deducted, to which Merrin found herself questioning at first. In the short time of knowing him, she had become admittedly close to Cal, not to mention his somewhat adorable cluelessness to his infatuation with her. To see him become suddenly unsure of himself and stumble over his words in his presence had transformed from annoyance into irresistible comedy.

She had never spent much time with boys, always surrounded by her sisters, and any interaction with a nightbrother was not much of one at all. They had revered her there as some kind of goddess, but Cal treated her like any other girl. Sure, their customs were different, but Merrin was certainly in a position to adapt.

To take him away…she didn't want that. She didn't want that _at all_.

"Hey, uh, anyone hungry?" Greez blurted, passing by the couch and up into his kitchen. "I was thinking of whipping up some scazz steaks."

Merrin cleared her throat, needing something to keep her mind occupied. "I will."

The latero had an expression of mild fear from her request, but it eventually faded with a nervous smile. "Oh…right! Uh…"

There was scuffling by the open loading ramp, and Merrin's head jerked to see Cal's droid scuttle up in a hurry, emitting a series of loud beeps and whistles she could not translate. Best she could tell, he was distressed, and that was plenty to get her on her feet.

"What's wrong?" she asked, more toward anyone who could help her understand.

Greez ran to her side as BD continued to trill and whine. "He's what? In the snow?"

_Deet-deet beep proop!_

"Shit, he's going to freeze to death!"

That was all she needed to hear. In an instant, she transported to the spiritual plane, against Cere's cries for caution, feeling around the landscape for his familiar presence. It was difficult in the harsh condition of Ilum, as a blizzard roared through the snowy biome around the _Mantis_. However, being without any particular wildlife made finding him easy.

And it was _not_ a welcoming sight.

Reappearing in the physical world, her teeth immediately chattered from the intense cold that barreled into her, stumbling forward to find Cal half-buried in the snow, unmoving. His clothing was soaked with freezing water, which she imagined was actively killing him.

"Cal!" she shouted over the wind and fell to her knees. He was heavy, but not enough to stop her from turning him over. She gasped in horror as his skin was beginning to turn purple, his eyes distant and glossed.

"_Merrin_…" he barely wheezed.

"Hang on," she eased, pulling him from the snow. "You're going to be alright…I promise."

With a wave of her hand, they both disappeared from sight.

* * *

**Destral, 14 BBY**

**Tropics**

"You're not going to tell me what happened?" Trilla asked with Xur beside her, walking back along the path they took to the _Fury_. They paced just behind Vorchenko's tall death trooper guards, while Brutis and Petro brought up the rear. He was not quick to answer, but it felt more as if he was gathering his thoughts, and not hesitation.

"These people, this…Imperium, well…they said a lot of things I find hard to believe. They have virtually limitless funding and some pretty impressive tech, but they won't reveal where they get it from, or who supplies it, only that they have a benefactor. Long story short, they wanted me, Saw and Reyna to fully commit to them…serving as faces for a larger invasion of the Empire," he explained, and she was beginning to see the scale of it all.

Hearing that, it was the definition of all Xur had ever wanted; an army at his back as he waged war against the Empire. Whoever this benefactor was, she didn't feel he would care if it was a secret, so long as the resources kept coming.

"So…did you accept?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

The zabrak's conflict was present, but eventually he answered with finality. "Saw did. Vorchenko basically told them she'd give them a call, and I…told them to fuck off."

Trilla almost stopped her walk then and there, and if it wasn't for the need to progress the group, she would have. "Why?"

"Because what the hell does it matter if you're not there?" he asked, keeping pace as his frustration began to show. When her confusion only mounted, he sighed to himself, knowing he needed an explanation. "They said I'd have to cut ties with you…because you're an _unknown_ variable, or whatever bullshit excuse they came up with."

Immediately she felt anger towards anyone who _dared_ to take him away from her, and her instincts told her to run back and raze the camp to the ground…but that wasn't who she was anymore.

What a lie. If Xur had taken that deal, she would've killed everyone there or turned them all over to the Empire, because what good was this galaxy without him? Trilla had lost everything once, and she remembered how little she cared about the odds then. Again? Put an army in front of her, and she'd charge straight in, killing as many of them as she could before they finally put her down.

The Second Sister never cared about dying, but now she had something to live for…but if _anyone_ took that away…

If she had to don that helmet again just to keep him in her life, she would.

_Without_ hesitation.

She felt so lost. Her loyalties were more clouded than ever before, fighting the Empire, but not trusted by its enemies, or not hunting for Jedi, but not helping them either. She lived in a gray line so alone…the place in which _no one_ trusted her, and she was finding it harder and harder to trust herself. In her mind, she had seen the Second Sister die, but she knew better than to think that part of her was gone forever. Take everything she had regained away, and she'd be resurrected, becoming that same slave to the Empire she once was.

"Have you ever thought about…running away?" Trilla asked, her voice low. "Finding the most desolate planet in the Outer Rim, and starting a new life for yourself?"

Xur seemed unprepared for her sudden change of the subject at hand, but he indulged her. "Before you? No."

Her heart beat a little faster. "Maybe we should…just do that."

He sighed to himself, that same despondent and hopeless sigh she only rarely heard from him. "They'd find us eventually, Trilla."

Of course they would…because of the very organization she herself helped establish. The Empire unchecked will span the galaxy one day, every planet under its grasp, and there was nowhere they could hide. Besides…a life like that wasn't what she wanted for…

Her left hand brushed her stomach, before falling back to her side.

There was reality in that mentality. Suddenly Trilla found something to fight for…a _reason_ to not only fight back against the Empire…but repair the horrendous mistakes she had made.

In that moment…she found her purpose. The Second Sister was knocking on the barriers of her mind again, and there was only one remedy that would not only secure her a future but silence her past forever.

They needed to do it. They needed to hit the Fortress and blow it to kingdom fucking come.

Her thoughts…Xur could sense them, and his hand gripped her shoulder with a supporting and knowing expression. "But if we do that," he said. "We may not need to worry any longer."

She nodded with acceptance. "Yes…all hypotheticals, however," she admitted. "The two of us alone is only a suicide mission."

He gave her a smile, which intrigued her. "You see…I didn't get to what the Admiral and I spoke about _after_ our introduction…"

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious**

Effa rummaged through drawers of useless trinkets and various souvenirs, some she herself remembered Trilla taking off the bodies of Jedi she had killed when they hunted together. This room…the one where the Second Sister used to brood in between hunts, was little more than a conduit of dead ghosts, its silence only just broken by her intrusion.

_Your usefulness has not yet reached its end._

Trilla's final quest was now hers, and she had scrambled to pick up the broken pieces her lost counterpart had left behind. That holocron that Cal Kestis was after was her key to winning Anakin's favor back, and perhaps another step closer to becoming his ultimate confidante.

All she had ever wanted…all she had ever dreamed of was standing beside Vader when the Empire had no more enemies to vanquish, not as an inquisitor, but as his apprentice. She knew, deep down, that his ultimate desire was to kill the Emperor and take revenge against his master for reasons unknown to her. Effa wanted to show him she could help make that a reality, and that she would forever serve him until he deemed her unworthy.

If she should die by his hand, then so be it…but she would prefer to prove her worth.

The longer she dug through Trilla's old quarters, the less she seemed to find. There wasn't much of value or memorabilia…just sporadic relics and a few lightsaber hilts that she had taken. Best she came up with by the end of her search was a datapad, and even that was mostly various notes taken on each of her prey, before eventually closing out the files. She had always been organized, and it only showed how freakishly intelligent she was, something Effa had relied on during many occasions.

There were two files that weren't closed, _TARGET 22_ and _TARGET 1_. Opening 22 first, she was shown a list of notes typed for consideration.

_TARGET 22: Cal Kestis_

_ Eighteen years of age. Former student of lasat master Jaro Tapal. Bladework- unrefined, sloppy. Easily manipulated and predictable. New master an exploitable weak link. _

Most of it was incoherent rambling, to which Effa found her eyes merely glossing over as she exited Trilla's quarters and walked down the Fortress halls.

_Eno Cordova's Holocron – From what I can gather, aside from the obvious, it contains explicitly sensitive information about the Jedi Order. To what extent, I am unsure, but certainly worth exploring._

_ It appears to be a list, and_

The entry stopped there, whatever thought she had left unfinished, and when she surfed back to her file access history, _TARGET 1_ was the last thing she ever looked at. Effa was smart enough to make the inference of who it was behind the classification, but she opened it up anyhow.

As the Third Sister, Effa knew that she was "short a few marbles" so to speak. It was useless to deny that her mental stability was questionable at best, and her supportive colleagues never let her forget it.

What she saw made her _feel_ sane.

_TARGET 1: [OMITTED] Traitor_

_ [Incoherent rambling] Impossible to find. HE'S A FUCKING GHOST. Eighteen reported sightings on ten planets in ONE DAY. How does he do it? There must be a mole. Traitors are easy to find, but WHY CAN'T I FIND HIM? Signature pings? Dark science? Cloning?_

_ I need a fucking drink._

_ Seventh Brother tried to one-up me. That shit-cunt ended up in the trash compactor just for being lippy. Found another body on Takobo, another inquisitor. That's four he's killed so far. Who's to say I'm not next?_

Effa's eyes widened reading _that_. Trilla never seemed to be questioning her own skill, always pristine and confident, scaring the shit out of whoever she was hunting. She chuckled to herself as she turned through a trapezoid door, pacing down the long hall before sitting on the steps leading up to the elevated torture chair.

_TARGET 14 died today. Simple trick. Never stood a chance. His last words were: "you'll never find him". Like he knows. I WILL find him._

She set down the datapad and continued to read, whilst fumbling her fingers through her pocket for a syringe.

_Tried using a filter to narrow down his possible pings. Still have no theory on his radar pings, and I cannot even feel him in the Force. It's almost as if he's hiding himself…but he was never able to achieve that before. The way he tears apart these other inquisitors…I wouldn't put it past him._

_ I'm…dare I say…I'm impressed._

Effa almost laughed to herself, finding her dosage canister and pulling back the syringe once it was administered, filling it with a regular dose of ketamine.

_He's like a cancer within my mind. I…I…I HATE him. He left me here…to suffer…to waste away while he continuously torments me with this sorcery. If only I knew someone he loved…someone he cared about…and I could take them away, just as he did when he refused to acknowledge me. That horned cunt is probably fucking that togruta right now._

_ That's it…if she's still alive…_

She could already see it then. Trilla never _really_ hated Xur, she just hated the fact that he might be inserting himself into another woman.

"Oh, you jealous little bitch," Effa remarked, and casually administered the drug into her body. The dose she gave to herself was plenty to render a normal human incoherent for an extended period, but she merely shook it off, feeling a euphoric bliss that relaxed her muscles.

_Tano is probably dead. Her master didn't survive, so why would she? She was so gullible. I'm sure she was one of the first to be executed by her own men. Absolutely. Has to be. She's dead. Certainly. She's certainly dead._

_ Fuck me…I need a drink._

What came next was a rough and horribly misspelled mess of words, to which Effa could not translate.

Then she came to the good stuff.

_He's dead. Xur Eon is fucking dead. Killed by some imbecile who spends his off time fucking whores and drinking until he passes out._

_ HOW?! YOU SPEND ALL THIS TIME FOOLING ME, AND YOU LET HIM KILL YOU?!_

_This galaxy is a cruel joke, and I only wish to strangle it with my bare hands. Perhaps I shall settle for the man who stole my solace. This Second Brother…when I am finished…_

_-File Close-_

_-File Open-_

_ Xur Eon is dead._

_ Xur Eon is dead._

_ Xur Eon is dead._

_ Xur Eon is dead._

_ That wasn't him on Zeffo. It couldn't be. I…I'm just losing my bloody mind. None of that was real. He's dead. Has to be._

_ Xur Eon is dead._

That sentence repeated an uncountable amount of times, but Effa was more stunned by this side of Trilla she had never seen. She was always so precise and proper…so elegant…but this was perhaps the most informal and shockingly ridiculous thing she had ever read.

In that moment she realized she had made no progress in finding the holocron. Setting the file aside, she dug elsewhere.

* * *

**Ilum, 14 BBY**

_**Stinger Mantis**_

"Set him down, set him down!" Cere commanded as Merrin heaved, Cal's limp body over her shoulder. Setting him gently on the floor of the ship, Cere was quick to rip off his soaked poncho while he mumbled incoherently, his shivering completely non-existent. "Greez, shut the Mantis and get him something warm, now!"

The latero was already one step ahead of her, sealing the ship and running through his own ship to comply. Cere was tearing off his clothing like a madwoman, while BD only watched despondently as his partner experienced the severe stages of hypothermia.

"_Master_…" he mumbled weakly. "_Sorry, Master._"

"Shhhhh," Merrin hushed while Cere finally reached his jacket, tearing it open and tossing it aside, leaving Cal to only his exposed skin on the ship floor. He was toned nicely, obviously a result of his constant physical endeavors, but his skin had spots of blue in multiple places.

She hated seeing him like this…a man who had always put others first, one who was willing to trust a stranger such as her with his life. He didn't deserve to die…not now…not anytime soon.

Greez came running by with a thick blanket just as Cere finished removing his pants and boots, leaving only undergarments to conceal his dignity.

"Wrap him up," Cere directed, handing Merrin the blanket. She did just so, making sure his entire body was insulated, and soon his mumbling stopped…his consciousness lost.

"Cal…Cal?" Merrin shook his body, only to get no response. Cere was quick to check his pulse, and it was agonizing to wait for her response, as she had to feel around before finding it at last.

"Can barely feel anything," Cere grimly remarked. "Greez we need more."

"Cere…"

"We need more!" she shouted, and Greez only reared back with no response. Merrin was frozen in place, unsure if this was truly reality before her, as Cal looked as close to death as he ever could be.

She had to do _something_.

"I…I can try something," Merrin suggested. "I've never done it…"

"Do it," Cere answered for her, her tone desperate.

"But-."

"Whatever you need to do, just do it," Cere insisted. "I don't care."

At this point, neither did she.

Taking a deep breath, Merrin delved into her arsenal of magik, and began to speak the words that were almost second nature to her. She felt her hands glow with heat as she continued, and with caution, she raised them, doing her best to imagine the shape of Cal in her mind. It took intense concentration, but eventually her hands were engulfed in green flames, and it was difficult not to panic at the sight. If she did, however, the flames would consume not only her, but perhaps the entire ship.

There was no time for doubt now. Cal _needed_ her.

Going out on a limb, she encased his body in a cocoon of heat, and with a gasp, she was able to hold it steady.

"_Woah_," Greez watched from behind, while Cere stared in awe. "That's not going to burn him alive, is it?"

"Talking does not help," Merrin seethed, trying to maintain it. If she lost control for only a moment, Cal could suffer permanent and severe burns, not to mention death if bad enough.

He was stirring…

With an ending chant, she felt the flames dissipate and cool off, and once the spell had been relinquished, her vision began to tunnel, but she forced herself to remain conscious. She needed to know if Cal was alright.

BD waddled up to his head and looked down, his sad whistles heartbreaking to endure. Merrin waited, watching his fluttering eyes shift, until they opened, as his confused look was set upon them all.

"_What…the hell?_" he mumbled, and BD jumped and beeped happily, running up beside Merrin as Cal lifted himself up.

"Easy," Cere insisted, her expression relieved. "You were lost in the snow, but Merrin-."

Merrin roughly pulled him into an embrace, and he grimaced in pain from its harshness, prompting her to pull away quickly.

"Sorry," she apologized with embarrassment.

Cal seemed fine with it, but his hand grasped his head. "I don't…remember much."

"You probably have amnesia," Cere noted. "We'd better get you something to eat, as well as some bacta injections. Think you can walk?"

He nodded, but then realized his clothes were not on his body, and that resulted in a sudden pull of the blanket over his chest. "Why am I…"

"You almost died…Cal," Merrin revealed, and his eyes widened. "You were freezing to death."

His eyes flashed with recognition, and he shifted towards BD. "Buddy…did you…"

BD nodded, revealing a compartment in his head that held a clear crystal, to which the red head reached forward and shakily pulled it out.

"You found it," Cere smiled. "That's great, Cal."

"Yeah, all thanks to you though," he made clear.

Cere smirked. "Merrin did all the work. I was just here as…moral support."

Cal snorted and looked to the nightsister, who felt her cheeks heat. "I think I remember seeing you…barely."

She smiled and tipped her head. "I'm glad you're okay."

She was…very much so.

* * *

**Honestly, I wasn't a huge fan of the last chapter. It felt like aimless writing, but I'm happy to say I've got the goal in sight…finally. I'd spent to much time sequel building and felt like I lost the true premise of the story altogether. Now we can get back to what really matters.**

**Stay safe and stay healthy.**

**See y'all soon.**


	28. Novel Reality

**CHAPTER 23**

Novel Reality

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

**Destral, 14 BBY**

**Aboard the **_**Fury**_

Xur could tell Trilla didn't like having so many people aboard and poking around her ship, and he imagined he'd be no different. It had become her home in a sense, a place in which she could privately be herself without the prying eyes of others, hence why she had shut and locked her room from anyone who was curious enough to wander inside. Rava had also complied with her less obvious security requests, but mostly everyone was just assembled around the holotable, and she had transferred direct control to him for now.

The planet Nur was displayed at the center of the table, rotating for all to see. "As most all of us already know, Fortress Inquisitorious is the Empire's most isolated and impenetrable detention facility. It was built specifically to hold Jedi and Jedi alone, and it is run by some of the most ruthless individuals in the galaxy. Only one has ever escaped."

He stepped back, and Trilla leaned forward, standing just beside him. "Based off what Xur and I know, as well as experience, there is no obvious entry point into the Fortress aside from the landing pad, which retracts on command. That's without mentioning that inside, their security systems can have the entire fortress sealed within sixty seconds, which were measures put in place after Cere Junda managed to escape," she explained, and she held strong as she was forced to relive that experience.

"You haven't even brought up the fleet that can rain a shitstorm upon us anyway," Brutis added, his arms crossed, and certainly had not committed to anything, even with the nature of his current debacle. Still, Xur had a feeling the former Commander would be all-in on raiding the place he obviously hated so much.

"That should not be a problem should I be present in the Valkyrie," Vorchenko interjected. "Although I do not have superior protocol in that sector. Lord Vader can personally waive any orders I give, but I do not plan on maintaining my guise for much longer."

Xur narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes. After what I've seen here…the time for hiding is over. I plan on accepting the Imperium's offer once this mission is through."

"You're that confident we will succeed?" Trilla asked, who sounded skeptical.

"Not without merit," she admitted. "This planning is truly a moot point now. The simple fact is that we need more people to pull this off. I do not mean an army, more specialists. People who are experts in their fields, namely infiltrators and saboteurs."

Xur liked that idea more than Trilla seemed to. More hands to pull this off would be imperative to the mission's success, the only question being who would be stupid enough to join them.

"Raven and the rest of the 502nd would be a good place to start," Xur suggested, and only Brutis seemed to have a problem with that. "We'll just have to find them."

"I can assist you with that endeavor," Vorchenko offered.

"Great," he thanked, and then turned to Trilla, who only shrugged.

"You look at me like you believe I have any friends," she flatly stated. "How many do you think we will need anyhow? I'd argue the smaller we are, the better."

Xur pondered that. "Well…Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka and I…" he explained, and she bristled at the sound of her name, to which he ignored. "…took about eight clones when we hit the Citadel. That seemed to be enough. With us, and Vorchenko in orbit, that's four, plus around three to five with Raven and his fireteam. That's eight most likely."

Vorchenko cocked her head. "What about Cal Kestis and his crew? That's at least three more, if I recall."

Trilla scoffed. "I thought you said we needed _specialists_, not trainees."

"Kestis has proven quite adept at evading the eyes of the Empire thus far," the Admiral noted. "He knows inquisitors, and Cere Junda has escaped before."

Xur stepped in before Trilla lost perspective. "But they wouldn't join us without good reason anyhow. They don't have much of a stake in a suicide mission, not if they get the holocron."

Vorchenko sighed. "All valid points."

It was unfortunate, but it was true. They had no reason to help them with such a daring mission, despite what Cal, Merrin, Greez and Cere could all bring to the table. Once they had the holocron, they'd be more concerned with finding force-sensitives instead of raiding an impenetrable fortress.

Not to mention Cal and Trilla's still potent rivalry.

Unless he could convince them that those goals were aligned, they'd be doing this without them. In fact, so far, they only had Trilla, he and Vorchenko on board.

"What are your thoughts, Brutis?" he asked. "Is this something you're interested in?"

His eyes went straight to Trilla, and Xur could sense the distaste he still had for her, but underneath that was a personal conflict that he held himself responsible for. It was difficult to place, but Xur felt that Brutis had a stake in this that was stemmed far deeper than any of them realized, and it showed with his response.

"I've always hated this fucking place," he grumbled. "Never seen so many children dressed like men in one setting. If you've got some master plan to sink it to the bottom of that wretched ocean, I'm in. The odds aren't a concern to me, but your Admiral is right. We will need more to send these cunts to a watery grave."

"What about a massive bomb?" Petro chimed in, and all eyes were on him. "Why don't we just sneak in and blow the whole thing up before anyone notices?"

Xur smirked to himself, as that was his original idea.

"Easier said than done," Trilla shot down. "We'd never make it in without being seen."

"Master E-…_Xur_ snuck past you, didn't he?" Petro noted, his arms crossed.

The zabrak chuckled. "That only works if they don't expect it, or if they're secretly still in love with you."

Trilla let out a heavy sigh. "Fuck you, sweetheart."

"Love you too," he slickly answered back. "Anyhow, I'm sure that place has been outfitted to detect when someone is disguised now that they know what I did. We're going to need more people, that's just a fact, since they certainly will find us one way or another."

Trilla agreed. "The 502nd then. Where are they?"

Vorchenko stepped forward, messing with the display. "On Kashyyyk, currently, holding off an Imperial assault on a refinery Guerra's partisans have taken. Their expertise has turned the tide, but…"

"I almost traveled there," Trilla revealed. "Before we diverted to Zakuul. Kestis had assisted Guerra in taking it from the Empire. Since, they've tenaciously defended their position."

The Admiral nodded in confirmation. "I'd give them two, three days before the Empire finally breaks them."

"Then that's where we go," Xur pointed, but subtly turned to Trilla. "Right?"

Trilla smirked his way. "Great to see you still respect whose ship this is. Rava, set a course for Kashyyyk."

"Very well," Vorchenko nodded as Rava rolled away. "In the meantime, I will return to my ship. I have some unfinished business to attend to regarding a potential annoyance."

As Brutis and Petro paced away to speak alone, Vorchenko pulled over her backpack and dug inside. "Before I leave, however, I believe these belong to you," she pulled out two lightsaber hilts, and Xur felt as if he had seen a part of himself come back from the dead. He hadn't laid eyes on the blades that had cut down half the droid army since his mission had begun, and a tear almost rolled down his face.

Trilla's hands massaged his shoulders in support as she came up behind him, her joy for him just as strong as his, and he reached out and took them both into one hand. They were just as he remembered as he split them apart, letting his grip settle in.

"Thanks, Reyna," he said, letting his arms drop.

She tipped her head. "I trust we shall we working together again, Suduri?"

Trilla nodded. "Of course, Admiral."

Vorchenko turned on her heel after a last acknowledgement and exited the ship, leaving the two of them alone for now. Trilla breathed deeply and wrapped her arms around him from behind, letting her chin rest on his shoulder.

"I remember you swinging those brutish things around," she remarked, and her voice in his ear along with her embrace was an amazing feeling, on top of having his hilts once again.

"You liked it," Xur scoffed.

Trilla giggled, and then kissed the nape of his neck. "I did."

* * *

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

Cal splashed his face with warm water before shutting off the sink, drying his skin with the small towel at his side. Dressed in dry clothing at last, he let his face sink into the fabric for a moment, letting the feeling of comfort it granted persist for a moment longer. Surviving a bout of hypothermia was slightly traumatic to say the least, but he was alive, and he should focus on that.

What he experienced on Ilum was not much different from what he had when he was a Padawan…a tumultuous time mixed with intense uncertainty, as well as an experience of failure, to which he had to adapt to.

Only he hadn't. Falling into the freezing cold waters of Ilum hadn't stopped him from getting his crystal, but it had affected him enough to make it impossible for him to make it back. He had never wanted so badly to be warm in his life, his legs giving out as his muscles no longer obeyed his commands under the fierce and freezing gale.

What was that supposed to teach him? He'd persevered all the way through, but in the end, he had failed, and only by swift action from his friends did he survive. If it weren't for them, their quest would've essentially been over, as they would no longer have a Jedi to complete Cordova's test.

_Trust in your allies?_

It could be trust in _people_, but if the Force was subtly trying to coerce him into trusting Trilla, despite what she'd done, it'd be running a fool's errand. She could throw herself off a cliff for all he cared…

_No, no. That's not right._

Sinking down to her level wouldn't do him any favors…nor was allowing that wretched…_lady_ to worm her way into his thoughts so often. He subtly told himself to stop thinking about her…an attempt number he has stopped counting for many times ago.

Dropping the towel to allow light back into his eyes, the blur in his vision didn't dissipate for a moment, and he saw Merrin standing beside him in the mirror.

"Merrin!" he gasped, stunned with how quiet she was. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

Her eyes flashed from his reflection in the mirror to his actual form, and then pointed back to the door. "This is a _unisex_ bathroom, I thought."

Cal groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but…"

_You've got to be confident; own your words._

Xur's voice in his head was like a slap in the rear that snapped him into gear, and he almost felt like someone else had taken over his body.

"I mean, yeah," Cal corrected. "This is a…unisex bathroom…yeah…I love unisex bathrooms…"

Trilla was laughing hysterically somewhere, as were a lot of other people.

_What…the fuck was that, Cal?_

Merrin laughed…pretty good too. "What?" she giggled.

_Own your words._

Cal snapped his fingers. "That was a joke. What I meant to say was, yes, Merrin, it's fine. You just scared me when you snuck up, that's all."

The nightsister was shaking off her giggles, wiping tears from her eyes. "Sorry about that. I was just coming to see how you were doing."

Cal nodded, trying to shake off his little trip-up. "Cooling off, currently."

Merrin grimaced. "Is that another joke?"

His green eyes looked away before coming back to her, his hands resting on his hips. "…yeah."

Silence followed, and Cal wanted to hang himself for a moment…but then it softened out, almost as if they both felt a breeze roll through the room.

Her building laughter became his own, and soon they were shaking off the stupidity of the whole exchange. It was much needed, as Cal was beginning to feel trapped in his own false illusion of himself.

"You're funny," she admitted, smiling his way.

Cal blushed. "Yeah? Well, you're…funny too."

"Am I really?" she narrowed her eyes. "I don't even know what a joke is. Honestly, I think I am…what did he say…_shit_ at it? What does that word mean?"

"Uh…" Cal trailed off. "It's another word for…_excrement_."

Merrin grimaced with disgust.

"Also another word for _bad_," Cal explained. "Like…if, for instance, you were trying to say you were bad at jokes, you would say: I'm shit at telling jokes."

Merrin still didn't seem satisfied. "But couldn't that also be you calling yourself…excrement?"

Cal pondered that…and didn't have a retort. "I guess, yeah. I don't use it that much."

"Hm…" she thought to herself. "And _pissed_. You did not tell me what that meant."

He was less innocent with that word; in fact he was the one who last recalled saying it. "Uh…_pissed off_ means mad."

"And _piss?_"

Cal raised his hands. "I think that's enough curse definitions for now, yeah?"

Merrin sighed. "If you say so…" her eyes paced away, and then she inched back towards the door. "Well…if you're alight…"

"Actually," Cal blurted, thinking better than to let her walk away from him. "I was going to construct my new lightsaber today, and I was wondering if you wanted to help me."

The nightsister mulled his offer, before nodding. "I'd like that."

"Cool…uh…see you then, I guess," he stammered somewhat.

She giggled to herself as she opened the door. "See you then."

Once she was gone, Cal felt like he could breathe again.

_How the hell did he do this?_

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

"Oh, for fuck sake," Brutis protested beside Petro as Trilla walked up, a bottle of Rancor's Gut in her hand. "May as well be in a bloody interrogation room."

Trilla didn't know how to react any other way than to smile in amusement, taking the seat across from the two of them. "Admittedly, I missed your humor, however crude it was."

"Shows what you knew about me. I never make jokes," Brutis corrected, still looking visibly displeased to have to deal with her. She didn't show up empty handed for a reason, and after his sour mood played itself out, she offered a glass. His bitterness persisted, but he eventually slightly nodded his head.

"You have to admit, considering the circumstances," she continued, pouring the liquor. "We did good work," expertly she placed it on the table and slid it across, to which he grasped it before hitting the edge.

"If you consider me riding your ass and bashing heads when you found it amusing _good work_, I think you should have your droid reanalyze your psyche," he said, before knocking his head back. She could tell the taste got to him, but he hid it away.

"Can I have some?" Petro asked.

Brutis shook his head. "This shit will literally kill you, kid."

"I can take it."

"Shut your fucking mouth and sit there," he scolded. "What did I tell you about stupidity?"

Petro sighed. "The stupid cunts always die first."

Trilla giggled. "Did you really tell him that?"

"No, he just conjured that from his mind," Brutis spat, and Trilla was beginning to wonder why she was even trying anymore. Part of her felt like it would be beneficial for her to be rid of her animosity towards her old commander, but she never hated him much in the first place. She couldn't blame him for most of the things he had said or deserting altogether, but she had grown tired of him staring daggers into her back.

Besides, if they were about to meet Raven and the others again, she'd need the practice.

"Why did you stay with me?" she asked, somewhat out of the blue. When he gave her a confused look, she elaborated, "You could've served whichever inquisitor you wished, and it's quite apparent you didn't care much for me…so why did you stay?"

He stared into space for a long while, and she sensed the internal conflict within him once again. The former purge trooper was hiding something she could not pinpoint, but she now knew it had something to do with her. With a wave of his hand, she knew to slide the bottle to him, and she could feel the answers coming at last. Brutis took another drink before shaking his head.

"I was in there," he said, and Trilla was unsure how to interpret that. "While they…when you…"

She cocked her head as Petro listened. "When I what?"

Brutis growled to himself, a deep anger rising to the surface. "When you were screaming. They made me stand guard…fucking _cunts_."

Trilla swallowed as her face fell.

"What do you mean?" Petro asked for her.

Brutis was becoming angrier by the minute. "On that day I knew those shits wouldn't stop at anything. If a kid has the Force, strap them to a chair and make them scream. They didn't care how old they were, or what kind of circumstance they were in. They just did it…bunch of sick fuckers."

It was difficult for Trilla not to fall back into her distressed state, but she had strategies for dealing with that now, and she was too close to the answer for her to fade away now.

"You want to know why I stayed under you?" he asked. "The answer is: I have no idea. Best I've ever come up with was it being some perverse and stupid sense of pity…almost as if I owed it to you, just for all the shit those cunts put you through."

That…was not what she expected…not in her wildest of speculations.

She swallowed again, waving for the bottle to be passed back to her, to which he obliged. As she took a drink straight from her own bottle, she fought off the horrid taste and sighed.

"I'm sorry I never saw that," she apologized.

"Don't be sorry," he grumbled. "Don't ever be sorry about anything they made you do. All that matters is you kick them in the balls every chance you get."

His words were simplistic, but they made sense.

"Fuck the Empire," she echoed his words from Zeffo.

Brutis nodded. "Fuck them all."

_Well, that was rather easy._

They didn't need to be friends…so long as they understood each other.

* * *

_Everything I do…is for your benefit. Remember that._

"Darling."

Xur's eyes fluttered open, snapped awake. He had no plans to sleep, but he must've dozed off in his solitude…or he was more exhausted than he initially thought. Wiping his eyes clean, he turned in the bed to see Trilla taking a seat against the back frame, electing not to lie down.

"Sorry. I need to stop thinking this is my bed," he apologized, and began to sit up, but she pushed him back down gently.

"Sweetheart, this is _our_ bed," she insisted. "And you look dreadfully exhausted. You should get some rest."

He shook his head. "I don't need rest."

"That's an order," she pointed with a smile. "As Captain of this ship, I'm commanding you to rest."

Xur sighed, more too infatuated with her to deny her request anyhow. "Only if you stay with me," he bartered, lying back down.

Trilla hummed with joy, removing her glove from her flesh and blood hand and soothingly ran her fingers through his hair in a relaxing fashion. It was such a small gesture, but her touch did much to calm everything about him. Always he had been worried about what he didn't have, but in her presence, breathing in her scent and exhaling with her touch, he felt as if his entire life was complete…and the content of that feeling weighed heavy on his eyelids.

And then his ears were blessed with something far more beautiful.

Trilla sang in an unknown language to him, but in a tone and pitch so perfect he at first thought she had merely began playing something. When he opened his eyes again however, he watched her perform before him, not loudly or passionately, but in a quiet and relaxing volume, almost like a lullaby…minus the sleeping effect. The zabrak was so mesmerized by her voice that he felt himself fall in love with her all over again, becoming that twelve-year-old boy looking across the archive desks to a thirteen-year-old girl he didn't know the name of.

Everything about her was perfect…and he never wanted this moment to end.

Once her tune was finished, his hand rested on her thigh as she continued to brush his hair. "I didn't know you could sing so…perfectly."

Trilla blushed heavily, looking embarrassed, but it faded in time. "When I was a Padawan…Cere would play songs when we lodged outside…eventually I was brave enough to start trying. I had always liked it when I was a girl, and it was one of the ways I was able to practice the languages I learned."

His thumb caressed her leg, and she shuddered somewhat. "What song was that?"

She smiled. "_Pu Upzunexe Nou'k_. The Rising Sun. It's a rather basic tune in Echani culture."

"You seem to know a lot about them," he noted.

"I studied them closely…one of my vocations, you could say," she explained, now resting her hand on his shoulder, squeezing and massaging his muscles exquisitely. "I always thought they were beautiful…and I was mostly self-taught in their fighting style."

"I noticed you falling into their stances when you go hand-to-hand."

She chuckled. "A real echani warrior would probably pick me apart and call it rubbish."

"Who needs hand-to-hand when you can do what you do with a lightsaber?"

"I might've won a few of our little practice duels back at the Fortress if I was better versed," she figured.

He scoffed. "Yeah right."

Her massaging stopped, and in an instant her hand moved to his rib cage and she squeezed, making him jolt away. "Hey!" he protested while she giggled. "I was kidding!"

"Sure you were," she noted skeptically.

"I protest. How am I supposed to rest if you poke my ribs, Captain?" he asked.

Trilla shrugged, motioning to get up. "I guess that means I must take my-."

"No, no! Actually, totally fine!" he reached out, pulling her back. "Poke all you want, as long as you stay…"

She smiled, returning to his shoulder, and he groaned as she worked out some tired knots in his back. "Maybe later. Although knowing you're so jumpy…I may have to consider that for a later activity…"

Xur shook his head. "We are _not_ trying that."

"Hm…you're about as fun as sentry detail."

"That's a load of shit, and you know it."

"Do I?"

Xur groaned in displeasure. "Hun, you…why are you so…benevolently evil?"

She leaned in. "Best of both worlds, darling," she eased, and kissed his forehead as he relaxed, falling into the soothing state she provided him.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too."

* * *

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace**

Cal had stared upon his workbench for a long while now, unsure how to make use of his knew kyber crystal. What was left of his master's old hilt was a broken switch and a shattered crystal, the end of it replaced with Eno Cordova's old hilt. To see his master's legacy broken forever…the sting hadn't worn off yet. His foolish pursuit of power had cost him the final link to the Jedi Order…and perhaps more than that.

If it hadn't been for the careful timing of his friends, he would've died in the snow.

He'd forgotten what it meant to be a Jedi, and after what had happened on Ordo Eris with Trilla, he realized that he was just on the cusp of becoming no better than she. Was the Dark Side really that close?

Not once had he ever dreamed of himself turning to the Dark Side…it just didn't seem possible, but he was starting to think that was what everyone believed before it happened. It must've been subtle enough for them never to notice until it was too late, which meant he had to shore himself up _now_.

Jedi do not seek conflict; they only prevent it. They find peace, not emotion…harmony in chaos. He needed to let go of his passionate desires to become…to become…

Showing no emotion…why did the Jedi ever preach _that?_ Compassion, one of the most essential tenants of becoming a Jedi…requires love, an emotion…which in turn leads to selfishness. Would righteous defense of a group truly be _selfish_ defense of a group? Without all the right angles it was impossible to know for sure. In almost all struggles, if one is saved, the other is doomed, and to be truly selfless, he must be almost always impartial.

Which meant he would be better off doing nothing…and that saved _no one._ Xur had once told him that selflessness was foolhardy, self-righteous recklessness, which only doomed all parties in the end. At first, he didn't believe him, but in the case of Cere…if she _had_ remained with Trilla and the younglings, they would've stood a better chance…in theory. Throwing herself at the Empire may have bought Trilla time, but in the end only proved to doom all parties involved. Was that a permanent case…or simply just bad luck?

Cal selflessly saved Prauf, exposing himself to the Empire, who in turn killed him anyway, throwing his life into a tumultuous spiral of insanity. He'd offered to help Merrin on Dathomir, but that only brought the inquisition to her world.

Was his selflessness only putting others in danger…or was his selflessness a selfish root, in which he believed himself always in the right…simply because he was a Jedi?

Why had he never bothered to take a closer look at himself, and what _he_ believed in?

He grimaced as more questions flooded his mind, and BD whistled from his position on the workbench.

"Yeah, I'm just…thinking, buddy," he said. Probably thinking too hard.

There was a knock on his door…which meant it wasn't Merrin…she doesn't knock.

"It's open," Cal remarked, keeping his focus on his bench.

"Hey," Cere called from behind as the door opened, and to her voice, he turned. "Just…checking in. Almost lost you there."

"Yeah," he nodded, leaning against the bench as he crossed his arms. "I'm alright. Thanks to all of you."

She shrugged. "Glad to see you're moving, but if you don't mind, I wanted to ask what you went through in there."

Cal sighed. "Don't know what there is to say. I walked in, got my crystal, fell into a freezing pool, tried to walk out…" he trailed off, gripping the bench as his eyes paced away. "…didn't make it."

"No trauma?" she asked, looking confused and concerned all at once.

Cal sighed. "I've come close to death before. Another time isn't any different."

"Cal…" Cere insisted.

"Fine," he surrendered, no longer seeing a point to dodging anyhow. "Have you ever asked yourself…that maybe selflessness _is_ selfish?"

She blinked as if she was a droid processing hundreds of units of data at once, and her next expression wasn't any better. "What?"

"You remember when I told you about Prauf, right?"

Cere nodded.

"Part of me thinks it was selfish of me to save him…I mean, he was just exposed to an equally gruesome fate," he went on, and she simply listened as he elaborated. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm doing the right thing…like maybe it'd be better if I just went away and spare a lot of people more pain from trying to help me."

"Start thinking like that and we've already lost, Cal," she eased. "I know it can be easy to make that distinction in hindsight, but you have to put yourself back in your own shoes. If you let Prauf fall, knowing you could've saved him, how would that have felt?"

Cal was silent, pondering.

"It can be easy to lose perspective when things don't work out the way we want them to," she explained. "I know I did…but if we let despair guide us…we'll have nothing left."

He slicked his hair back as he exhaled through his nose, letting his eyes finally return to her. "All I've ever wanted to do was the right thing…but that becomes hard when the ones you look up to start to fail."

"If a god bleeds, then they cease to be a god," Cere recited. "I know. I've felt that too."

Cal wasn't sure if he should take the next step, but it was Cere…he wasn't sure who else he'd tell this too. "When Master Tapal died…I was so angry. The clones…I wanted to hurt them. They'd torn my world down to the foundation, and frankly broke that too. Being a Jedi…being who I was just wasn't possible anymore."

"We will all face that anger, Cal," Cere said, stepping forward. "The struggle is to not let it tear us apart from within. No matter how dark it may seem, there is always a better way."

"How?" he asked, feeling his frustration mount. "If it weren't for you, I'd have died out there…and if I had been stronger, I could've saved my master, just as you saved me."

"Cal…"

"That's what the Force was trying to tell me!" he spiraled, feeling like a revelation hit, but all he felt was hatred…towards himself. "I should've been there for him, just like you were!"

"You were only a child, Cal!" Cere denied.

"No! I saw it…on Dathomir," Cal revealed. "He's dead because of me!"

"Jaro Tapal made a choice, Cal," she pointed, a fierceness in her eyes. "He knew he couldn't save himself and save you."

"Well he chose wrong. Instead of thinking like a Jedi, he should've thought for himself. Then it would be him fighting off inquisitors that didn't stand a chance against a Jedi Master."

"Who's more likely to blend in, Cal? A lasat Jedi Master, or a teenaged Jedi Padawan? You think he didn't consider these things? He chose _you_ to carry his teachings on, not through his lightsaber, but through your individuality," she passionately continued. "You are the living continuation of his legacy, and he wouldn't want you to live in the past."

Cal grimaced as she spoke truthfully, unable to conjure an excuse to deny her claims.

"I can't change what I did any more than you can change what happened to your master. It's in the past, but Cal, you have to make a choice to _move on._"

He sighed. "That's easy for you to say…Trilla found a way out."

Cere shook her head. "The guilt remains…but it's over now," she reached for her belt and removed her hilt. "Start with this," she offered. "Build yourself a _new_ one."

He'd wanted for years to go back and undo everything he had failed to do on that day, but Cere's words had admittedly rang true within him. The past was done and over with. He didn't need it to die…but he needed it to stop weighing it down.

With unstable hands, he took her hilt, feeling its shape against his grip. "Are you sure."

Cere sighed. "My days of being a Jedi are done, Cal. I'd like it to be yours."

"You sure you don't want to give it to Trilla?" he asked, feeling it was more proper.

She shook her head with a deep sorrow. "I've forfeited the right to call her my own. I am what she has grown beyond, even now. I want you to have it."

Cal accepted that. "I will wield it for you then, Cere."

She smiled slightly and tipped her head. "Thank you, Cal."

There was another knock on his door, and this time Merrin was revealed as it opened, adopting a shocked look. "Oh…I thought Cal was alone…"

"I was just leaving, actually," Cere noted, giving him one last nod of confidence, before leaving the two of them alone.

Merrin stepped aside and shut the door behind her, seeming to notice his distress. "Are you alright?"

Cal nodded, wiping a tear from his eye. "Yeah…just sorting some things out. Ready?"

She smiled, coming up alongside him as he turned towards the workbench. "So how does this work?"

"Heh," Cal smiled, feeling like a kid in a toy shop. "Just you watch."

* * *

**Short chapter with mostly fluff and some subplot resolutions, I know, but the "Asshole Team" is going to Kashyyyk next, which will be insane, I promise you. Let me know your thoughts thus far! Would like to get an idea before all the bullshit goes down.**

**Stay safe and stay healthy.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	29. Our Demons

**CHAPTER 24**

Our Demons

"We are one in the same…you take all of the pain away."

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

"Push 'em back!" Raven bellowed over the roar of battle, unleashing the full might of his DC-17 pistols at maximum fire rate. His shots flew true as he hopped their makeshift barrier, landing multiple killing marks through the hearts of helpless stormtroopers as their position faltered. Rag-tag partisan grunts followed his lead, their own shots arching forward like a wave, and the Imperial advance began to fall back through the tight gorge, practically sandwiched together in a massive and lethal cluster of bodies. Raven raised his fist on cue, closing it.

Lockdown primed his anti-armor attachment and fired into that gorge, the shell exploding in a fit of shrapnel, shattered duraplast, body parts and plenty of blood as many troopers lost their lives in the close quarters.

"Look at 'em run!" one grunt behind him laughed, his rotary cannon at full speed. "Ha, ha! Run and hide Imperial scum!"

Once the Imperials had cleared out, there were sporadic cheers with their small victory, but none came from Raven as he sighed heavily, knowing it would only be a matter of time before they returned for another attack. His helmet was getting musty on the inside, and blood had begun to trickle into his eyes from time to time…not to mention his overall weariness. He'd been leading this group for more rotations than he could remember, and he couldn't recall the last time he slept more than a couple hours.

It was at a time like this in which he missed having a Jedi around.

"Raven…you alright?" Lockdown leapt from atop their barrier, removing the attachment from his modified DC-17m as he approached. "You're looking woozy from here."

"I'll manage," he grumbled, holstering both his blasters. "We need to be ready for when they come back."

Lockdown's purge armor was more sophisticated than others, adopting a construction very similar to what he once wore, albeit more streamlined and mass-produced. That hadn't stopped him from making his own modifications, especially after they defected on Zeffo, extracting their old general from a rather precarious position. He still prided himself in having the most advanced set in the company, and it was resources well spent on a man of his talents.

"Mars is still set up in his sniper position," Lockdown relayed. "He wanted to know if that's still what you wanted."

Raven sighed. "What I _want_ is for these Imperials to pack up and go home. How long have we been here, anyway?"

"Several rotations, sir."

It sure felt like that, but Raven would've believed his old friend if he had said a year had gone by already.

Lockdown grasped his shoulder and pulled him towards the barrier. "You need some rations. Come on, Captain."

He could go for some of those. His stomach hadn't bothered him yet, but he imagined once the adrenaline wore off, he'd be famished as all hell. Lockdown's quick thinking also helped them plan ahead, unexpectedly making him an important piece of their logistics.

"Mars, come on down, brother," Raven keyed into his comm. "Ration up and reload."

Mars didn't sound any better with his reply. "_Understood, sir_."

The former captain of the 502nd Legion hadn't been uncertain much in his military life, but this was proving to be his most taxing endeavor yet. If working for the Inquisitorious for five years wasn't bad enough, this was another animal, as supplies were always limited wherever he went, and it was difficult to get used to that fact. Not having the full might of the interstellar superpower at your back wasn't what he had been trained for.

And they were running out of supplies…_fast_.

As Raven and Lockdown clambered atop and over the barrier, they were met by Mari Kosan, Saw's commanding officer he had left behind when he extracted to chase his lead.

"Captain, how long do you think we have until they return?" she asked, blaster rifle across her chest.

Raven didn't want to be grim, but he didn't want to lie either. "Not long. I'm sure they can smell the blood in the water. If they send in the walkers, I'm not sure what we'll be able to do."

Mari grimaced. "Should we think about retreating? Pulling back into the shadowlands is always an option."

He didn't want to retreat, not against the damn Empire…but he had to see the writing on the wall, and they also could not afford to waste troops with that also in short supply.

It seemed like the only option.

Before he could make his decision, however, Mars came jogging into view.

"Captain, you're not going to believe this…"

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

_**Stinger Mantis**_

Cal twisted his new split saber hilt until he heard the satisfying click, and then proceeded to clip the weapon to his belt, at last feeling secure as a Jedi with a functioning lightsaber. He hoped he wouldn't need to use it anyhow, but he knew better than to expect such an unlikely event. Dathomir contained many more enemies than it did allies or friends, and if he was to finally claim the Zeffo Astrium, he'd need to fight his way to it.

"I never thought I'd be unhappy to come here," Merrin remarked, her eyes distant as she stared down the loading ramp beside him.

"What makes you say that?" Cal asked, readjusting his jacket as BD hopped aboard his back. "This is your home, isn't it?"

"My home has given me nothing but despair, Cal," Merrin answered, taking her first steps forward as her white hair shifted in the wind. "For years I lived here…alone…and from my point of view, it was my whole world. When we were taken…" she trailed off as she hit the rocky surface, the red sun beating down upon her from above. "I was shown that there is more to this galaxy than just despair and death."

Cal followed her to the surface, but was unsure what to say, already having numerous conversations with her that ended in embarrassment. With her emotional state obviously in turmoil, he just listened this time around.

She sighed. "Now Dathomir is just quiet…sad. It is intricate, but it does not feel alive, not as much I thought it once did."

The Jedi hadn't realized how much bigger her reality had grown in such a short time, and he imagined that could be somewhat difficult to process, perhaps even traumatic. When the Jedi were wiped out, his world certainly changed around him, forced to readapt to a galaxy without the order he had served his entire life.

He also never realized that Merrin had never agreed to join them on their quest. She had merely been forced upon them when they had been captured, and the circumstances had only made it feel as if she was now a part of his life…when really, she never had a say in the matter.

"You don't have to come with me, Merrin," Cal offered. "You can return home, stay here, if you want."

The nightsister sighed, her eyes still probing the horizon seemingly for an answer she could not find. "I said I would help you find your Astrium," she said, turning to face him. "I meant that. Staying here…that is a decision I cannot make right now."

He was content with that, even if there was a part of him that wanted to cling to her and never let go. "I understand."

Merrin looked back out, her eyes fading away again. It pained him to see her so conflicted, so he figured it was best to keep her mind off it.

"Guess we better start walking," he said, turning, only to feel his hand grasped by her own.

"No," she shook her head, pulling him in. "There is no time. Do you trust me?"

Cal narrowed his eyes. "Do I trust you? Yeah, of course."

She nodded. "Do not let go of my hand, then," she said as her eyes shut, and he noticed her eyelids oozing that green energy he had seen before.

"Wait-," he began to protest, only to watch himself transported into another realm beyond reality, and it was difficult not to panic at the sight. He was quite literally floating on air, taken into the sky above until he could see the entire path leading to the Tomb of Kujet. Nausea manifested within him, but he did his best to hold it off, focusing his mind to convince his body he was not in danger.

BD let out a high-pitched trill in shock.

"I know, just hang on buddy," Cal trembled. When he looked over to Merrin, her eyes were still shut, caught in deep focus while he held on for dear life. He had no idea what would become of him should he let go, so he opted not to test that theory.

"Enjoying?" Merrin asked, her smile apparent but her eyes still shut.

"Uh…woah! I'm not sure enjoying ah-…! I'm not sure that's the word I'd use right now," he remarked, grimacing in slight fear at the chaos of his experience.

"You must let yourself _go_," Merrin eased. "If you fight this, it will only make it worse."

Cal fought off the urge to continue his panic, eventually opting to close his eyes just as she did. In this state, there was no visionary input to terrify him, just the sound of wind rushing by his ears, and he took her advice, letting himself drift through the experience, his hand maintaining its grip onto hers.

"Get ready," Merrin said, and he wasn't sure what for, but he prepared himself for something, nonetheless. Within the next moment, they were on solid ground, and the chaos faded into reality. When he opened his eyes again, they were atop the ledge leading into the entrance to the Tomb of Kujet, where their prize was waiting.

Merrin never relinquished his hand. "How was that?" she asked, a smile on her face.

Cal blushed as she faced him directly. "It was…a little crazy, but…" he trailed off as he felt himself magnetized to her, their bodies inching closer with each breath they took. His eyes locked with hers, and it felt like instinct had taken over, his inhibitions a forgone conclusion, his emotions taking control of his mind as he felt himself give in. Merrin's eyes shut as she craned her neck forward.

He choked.

Turning away from her, vomit erupted from his mouth like a waterfall on Naboo once his body finally realized he was stationary, pulling his hand away while she watched in disgust.

"_Ugh_…are you alright?" she asked as he coughed, his revulsion finally done and over with.

Cal cleared his throat. "Yeah…just uh…I think the uh…" he pointed to the sky, waving his hand. "…the uh…thing made me sick."

Merrin was struggling to recompose herself, pulling her hair from her face as she uncomfortably crossed her arms, exhaling heavily through her nose. Cal wasn't feeling any better, and once he slicked back his own hair, putting it into place, he felt his cheeks heat.

_Oh…was that…? Shit…_

"We should…um…" Merrin stammered, rubbing her neck.

"_Get the Astrium_," they said in unison, followed by a nervous chuckle, to which Merrin took the first step, Cal shoring up behind her as he silently cursed to himself.

_Deet-deet._

"Yeah, I know," he sighed.

* * *

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

Xur had never run down a loading ramp so quickly in his life. To see his old captain, as well as the rest of his fireteam still alive filled him with more joy than he knew what to do with.

"General?!" Raven gasped, his weary expression wiped from his face as he jogged to meet the zabrak in the middle, the two of them clasping hands tightly and embracing with the other.

"I thought you crazy bastards would be dead by now!" Xur gleamed as he pulled away, leaving Raven with a solid shake of the hand. "So glad to be wrong."

"Let me tell you…you are a sight for sore eyes, sir," Raven remarked as Lockdown and Mars caught up. "Had a few moments where we thought the Empire _actually_ got you this time."

Xur kept the fact that he was literally raised from the dead on Katarr to himself, as there was no need to further complicate the argument. He clasped hands with Lockdown and Mars respectively once they came by.

"You came at the right time, sir," Mars huffed. "Hope you came here to send some imps back to hell with us."

"Got a couple of spots where we could set you up," Lockdown suggested. "Spark up those lightsabers and it's a whole other-."

"Now, just…wait a minute," Xur eased as their arrival became more popular with the partisan soldiers. "I just got here, and while I'm ready to hear the sit rep, there's something we need to discuss first, as well as the fact that I brought…friends."

"Your friends must have connections," Lockdown mused, looking over his ship. "Razor-Class Interceptor? You don't see that around very often."

Xur chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well…you see, it's not really _my_ ship…it's…"

Guns clicked all around the landing area, and even the three of them had their hands wrapped around pistol grips as they took a step back. Looking behind, out walked Trilla, her hands raised high with an annoyed look on her face.

"Sir…that's…" Raven trailed off, not staying his hand.

"Yeah…it is," Xur confirmed, meeting her in the middle as she advanced. "Sorry about this," he whispered to her.

She sighed with her hands still raised. "This'd better work."

"That's far enough," Mari commanded as she approached, flanked by six soldiers as Xur positioned himself between them and Trilla. "Eon, is she your prisoner?"

Xur knew Mari somewhat, as he had run various missions with Saw when he was merely ripping off the Empire in small scale. She was a solid soldier, tactical, forward-thinking and determined, someone he certainly didn't want to alienate, but with the look on her face, he could already tell Trilla had dished out some pain before.

"No," he shook his head. "She's here to help."

Sporadic coughs followed as silence swept through the area, and Mari only held her blaster closer. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

Xur narrowed his eyes. "No."

Now _everyone_ was on edge, and eventually, she leaned back to her men. "Bind her."

Trilla backed off, her hands falling to her sides as she prepared to fight, but Xur stepped in between the two groups as all six blasters were raised her way.

"Back off!" Xur warned. "She's with us!"

"Do you have any idea how many people we've lost to this…_monster?_" Mari growled, making no move to command her men to stand down.

"I can add more, if you would prefer," Trilla warned.

"Trilla, I told you to let me handle it!" Xur scolded, holding her back, before facing Mari again. "Listen, the way I see it, none of you are in any position to turn down help, especially another bloody _lightsaber_. Whether you want to believe it or not, Trilla is with me, and if you can't deal with that, then we'll be on our way."

"Like hell," one soldier shouted in the group, his face intense. "We should execute her right now!"

"Put your gun down, fucking prick," Xur pointed with a stern finger. "Or the only person who will be executed is _you_."

Mari raised her weapon. "Start threatening my men, and we'll start shooting."

"Stand down, stand down!" Raven commanded, his voice drawing the attention of all. "Look at us! Is this who we are? This is exactly what the Empire wants…conspiracy and disorder between our ranks."

"She's a spy!" another protested.

Raven removed his helmet, holding it at his side as he stood beside Xur. "I've known General Eon since I was paradropping on Teth seven years ago. He is many things, but a liar is _not_ one of them! If he says that Commander Suduri is here to help, then I believe him."

"You're too quick to trust!"

"I reserve my trust towards those who have earned it," Raven justified, pacing over to Trilla. "Commander Suduri has suffered horrible things none of you could even imagine at the hands of the Empire. Serving them was never her choice. She was _enslaved_, just like what the Empire is doing to the wookies here on Kashyyyk as we _bicker_ over who to trust. Is that the galaxy we want to build?"

Mari grumbled with begrudging acceptance of his words but did not lower her blaster. "But how many crimes are too many?"

Xur watched Raven continue, and he was beginning to believe that the captain had this all planned out from the start.

"We've all done terrible things as a result of this fight…let's face it," Raven admitted. "I served for years as a purge unit, trying my best to do the right thing in a galaxy where the wrong is expected. The General risked his life to help bring down the Inquisitorious, and now, Commander Suduri is risking her life to help us. Who are we to turn her down?"

Blasters slowly lowered from sporadic soldiers, only some remaining upwards from the more stubborn individuals, but once Mari stowed her own, the rest followed. "Given the circumstances, I guess all help should be considered. Very well, Captain, you've made your point…and you outrank me anyhow. The decision is yours to make."

"Thank you, Mari," Raven tipped his head. "Tell your men to ration up and prepare for the next attack. I'll get our support caught up on the situation."

Mari nodded, giving Trilla a trying look before turning away, directing her men back to their posts.

Once the higher ups and rag-tags were out of earshot, Raven whispered to her. "You _are_ here to help us…right?"

"_Humph_," Trilla smirked. "That is the plan…Commander _Archer_," she punched him rather roughly in the shoulder, to which he shook off.

"Ah…don't tell me you're mad about that still, are you?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Trilla giggled. "Impressed more than anything. I still can't believe I never saw it…any of you for that matter," she turned her gaze to the other two.

"Clones tend to blend in, Commander," Mars answered. "Pretty easy to just pick a new alias and roll with it."

"I'll say. Tell me, did you know _he_ was among us?" she nudged towards Xur, who seemed happy to be free of the partisan group.

Raven shook his head. "No…although I felt something wasn't right, but uh, as you can now see I really didn't have any incentive to investigate."

"I knew," Lockdown admitted, and Xur scoffed.

"No you didn't. If Raven didn't know, no one knew."

Trilla elbowed him. "You're saying this lab rat knows you more than I do?"

"Trilla, come on now, you know _me_ better than anyone in the galaxy," he corrected. "Second Sister on the other hand…"

Mars chuckled to himself. "I will say, when you revealed yourself, part of me was like 'I knew it!'"

"I can imagine you had a similar reaction, ma'am," Raven smirked.

"Tread carefully, Captain. The Second Sister is still out to get Commander Archer for deserting his post," Trilla remarked.

"_Ooooooo_," Xur mocked. "Don't talk too much shit, Raven, or you'll bring her back from the dead."

"Me? Talk shit to the Commander?" Raven slid his helmet back over his head. "It's not like I did it behind her back every few minutes back in the day."

"Of course you did," Trilla conceded, chuckling as the others joined in, Xur wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Honestly, I'm glad it all worked out," she admitted, letting her left hand glide up his back in a soothing motion.

They all stared.

Xur's eyes paced around. "What?"

"_Heh_," Raven laughed to himself. "About time the two of you worked it out."

"It all makes sense now," Mars noted.

Trilla grimaced. "You boys…I swear."

Laughs ensued, and it was more than just directed at her distress but translating the joy they felt at being whole once again. To Xur, it was just like old times, slinging jokes against impossible odds, and yet still pulling it out anyhow.

It'd been a long time since he had felt he was _home_.

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Tomb of Kujet**

Cal felt it again…the webbing of the Dark Side sticking with each step he took closer to the stone door he could not pass before. The last disastrous time he had come here, he had failed to deny the power granted to him…and the spectre of his old master had forsaken him as no longer worthy of being a Jedi.

He may have been right…but with everything he had seen and experienced on his journey so far, it was time to face the trauma he had experienced, not run from it as he had done before.

It was time to prove to _himself_ he was worthy of being a Jedi.

Merrin stopped and stood aside as they reached the top of the steps, staring down the engraved door she herself had never breached.

"You sure you don't want me to join you?" she asked. "I'm sure I could find a way to enter your visions and assist."

Cal shook his head. "No…this is something I need to do myself. If I don't, it could haunt me forever, as it already has."

The nightsister reassuringly squeezed his shoulder. "You can do it, Cal. You just need to trust in yourself, and what you can do."

He took a deep breath and stepped forward while she looked on, prepared to face his fear, prepared to face his _destiny_. Once his fingers grazed the surface, his psychometry activated, and through the whirl of information that flooded his mind, it materialized into the setting he had seen before. Haze filled the room around him as he rose to his feet, breathing easy as he waited for his master to appear again.

There were footsteps, but there was no _slap_ of skin rubbing against stone…but the sound of boots. The blue haze faded to a red hue, and out of the fog walked himself clad in inquisitor garments, his face scarred, and eyes poisoned with a hatred he had seen too often.

"Ah…there he is," his inquisitor self smirked. "I wondered when you would return."

Cal cocked his head in intrigue, analyzing the situation before acting irrational. "You were waiting for me?"

The haze moved with his spectre, following just behind in his wake as he took each slow step towards him. "I have always been waiting for you. What you see before you is your potential…all you could be…if you just _gave in_."

To see himself in such a garb…it was intensely horrifying. The perverseness of the sight drained hope from him as one of his worst fears became reality before him, marching step by step with an ever-growing sneer.

"The Dark Side…it calls to us with a desperate gasp…it is in our nature," his spectre explained, finally coming to a halt not far from where Cal stood. "Surrender to it, and all our fears will be swept away…all our doubt a forgone conclusion as _we_ become the masters of the galaxy. We will become the _hunters_, no longer running from hole to hole in desperate and futile hope of escaping an inescapable foe."

Cal stared in discomfort, fighting the urge to lash out in anger as he had done to his master, but his frustration only mounted…which was slowly manifesting into anger. He _hated_ this version of himself, and he only wanted it to drop dead at his feet, gone from his nightmares for all time.

His inquisitor form giggled. "_Yes_…our anger makes us powerful…focused…_stronger_," he then reached out with his gloved hand, the red palm offered like a parasite. "Become what you were always meant to be."

Cal knew he shouldn't, but his words rang so true. The safety of never again having to look over his back was powerful, and the freedom it gave him would free his mind of the constant paranoia that ravaged him since Bracca.

But he knew better than that.

"No," Cal simply shook his head.

His inquisitor form lost his hopeful expression as rage took over, and his black circular hilt was in his hand. "Then Dathomir…will be your _grave_," he spat as both red blades roared to life.

Cal responded in defense, his new blade humming as the violet hue ignited in a fantastic glow, and immediately he felt the raw connection to the kyber crystal roar with power. It was more than just a weapon…it was an extension of himself, spiritually and physically.

"You think that lightsaber can save you from me?" the inquisitor challenged. "I _am_ your future. You will _never_ be a Jedi!"

"I am _done_ running," Cal declared, holding his blade steady. "I will no longer let fear define who I am, and I will never let you come to pass!"

The inquisitor roared and attacked, Cal moving to block with expert defensive posture as his darker self engaged in an all-out assault. He could not identify the exact form used, but it seemed to be a jumbled plethora of many, similar to the one he had adapted to on his own. It was easy to counter at first, but he quickly realized that the spectre was only getting faster and stronger as their duel persisted. Using only his basic bladework tactics, he was eventually overpowered and shoved back, to which he backpedaled and blocked each strike before falling into a saber lock just as he regained his footing.

Purple and red cascaded together as the lock held, and the inquisitor pushed forward with all his hatred, Cal feeling the heat against his skin.

"You are going to _suffer_…I promise you that!" he roared. "Everyone you love will die…and then, you will be _mine_."

Cal heaved, pushing off his blade with newfound strength to create enough space for him to twist his hilt, igniting the second blade and going on a two-handed barrage of slashes and cuts with his split saber. The inquisitor grunted against the overwhelming power, and Cal struck paydirt, knocking the hilt from his spectre's hand and his body to the ground, breathing heavily from the effort.

His blade hummed in the silence as the inquisitor panted, looking up in fear at the power Cal had displayed. The next movement felt like instinct, to swing his blade downwards and end the life of this imposter, just as he did…

Just like when he killed the Ninth Sister.

The Dark Side…it was closer than he could've imagined…but he didn't _have_ to. The choice was still his to make, and in that moment, he realized that succumbing to the Dark Side was not inevitable.

He will _always_ have a choice.

Clipping his hilts back together, he deactivated his blades. Fear had been wiped from his mind, and he only looked down upon himself in pity.

"You think fancy bladework proves you're a Jedi?" the inquisitor spat, slowly stumbling back to his feet.

"No," Cal shook his head. "Letting go of my fear of you. I won't follow your path. I will honor our master's memory…and continue his legacy, just as he would want us to."

The inquisitor paused, and Cal felt a shift in the atmosphere as the haze whirled around him, slowly consuming the area until it lost its red hue, fading to blue as he heard the door open.

"_Remember, the Force will be with you, always,_" the voice of Jaro Tapal echoed in his mind, before his vision faded to white, and he was back to reality. The true entrance into the Tomb of Kujet opened in a deep rumble of stone rubbing up against the edges, before revealing a long, dark passageway that eventually lead to a chasm.

Cal took a deep breath as his satisfaction with his resistance paid off, and a new internal strength solidified his confidence. He _felt_ better in nearly every aspect, almost as if he could take on the whole Empire himself.

That was probably pushing it.

_Doo-whoop!_

"Yeah, I think it went pretty well, buddy," Cal answered BD, who chimed in from his back, and then found Merrin approaching from the side.

"It took a lot not to try and enter your mind," she admitted. "With you walking aimlessly around the place and all."

Cal flushed red, running his fingers through his hair in embarrassment. "Was I really?"

_Aaaaand there goes my confidence again._

Merrin giggled. "I wish I had…what do you call it…a holo-capture?"

Cal snorted. "You mean a holocam?"

"Yes, that," she pointed. "I'm sure Greez would find it rather comedic."

He groaned. "Alright, let's just get this Astrium and get out of here."

* * *

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

"Brutis…the fuck you doing here?"

Trilla knew why Brutis had elected to stay aboard while she and Xur waltzed out into a hot zone of triggermen just begging to put a hole in her head, but she had forgotten about the subtle rivalry between then-Commander Archer and himself. She assumed Raven had opened up with such a comment as a way to shoot back at how he had been greeted on Zeffo, the last time the two of them served together before the…_thing_ happened.

That felt like millennia ago.

"None of your damn business, that's what," Brutis answered, crossing his arms before Raven as they both stood in the repurposed refinery warehouse that now served as the temporary command center. Trilla was used to soldiers having pissing contests in front of her, and as the Second Sister she usually let them play out, unless of course she was in a sour mood. Her stance on that hadn't changed much, it felt, but she figured she'd be less inclined to let them kill each other.

She was _pretty_ sure Raven and Brutis wouldn't kill each other.

"That's fine," Raven shrugged. "As long as you're here to kill Imperials, it doesn't matter much to me."

"Good to hear…just so long as you're not guarding my back. That's twice you've betrayed your commanding officer now," he kept his fierce yet stoic eyes on the clone. "Think you've got a third one in you?"

Trilla was about to defend Raven…but Brutis brought up a point she had never even considered. Sure, it was narrow and without proper context…but it was worth noting.

"I never betrayed _my_ general," Raven sternly pointed. "Go ask him yourself. With that, where we stand is pretty much even, seeing as you did the same to your commanding officer," his eyes motioned to Trilla, to which she wished he hadn't tried to drag her in.

She huffed. "Honestly, I don't care anymore. Your rivalry is about as pointless as trying to prevent rain from pouring on Kamino."

Raven grimaced with embarrassment. "Sorry Commander. I'll put a cap on it."

Brutis scoffed. "Not even an hour has gone by and you're already taking orders from her again?"

"That's right," he nodded, not an ounce of shame present.

"Wow…" he remarked, looking back to Trilla. "You should count yourself lucky. I guarantee no one else in the galaxy will forgive you so quickly."

By the grace of the Force, the others finally arrived to end their argument, as well as spare Trilla anymore taunting comments. Xur came in with Lockdown, seemingly deep in a serious conversation, most likely logistics, while Mars and Petro had a much more upbeat one, certainly a result of their personalities. To her surprise, that was all who arrived, as she expected them to go over a strategy to push back the Imperial advance based off what occurred outside…but perhaps Xur was having second thoughts on sticking around.

Once everyone was present, and Trilla realized she was the only woman in the room, something she was accustomed to anyhow, Xur squeezed her shoulder as he passed, a small gesture that alleviated some of her frustration.

"Just wanted to get us all together before we did anything else," Xur began, looking at each of them. "Honestly, we didn't come here with the intention of helping…more of _extracting_."

"Extracting?" Raven echoed. "For what, sir?"

Xur looked to Trilla, and she took that as a cue to take the lead. "We already have…someone on the inside who will assist us, but Brutis and Petro had agreed to help us assault the Fortress on Nur. We're putting together a small team, and we hoped you could join us."

There was surprise from the three of them, Mars looking as if she had just suggested something utterly insane, while Raven only inquired further. "_Assault_ the Fortress…ma'am?"

Xur nodded. "That's right. We want to get in there and blow the whole thing up."

"I'm in," Lockdown accepted, which she certainly expected. A small-team mission was a specialty of a former commando. "I've wanted to do that for years, sir."

"Slow down there, Are-Cee," Raven remarked. "Look General, I'd follow you anywhere, but I'm not sure that's even possible. We were there for nearly five years and we couldn't find a single subtle way to destroy the place."

"Who said anything about subtlety?" Trilla shrugged.

Raven's confidence was nearly restored with that remark, but Mars came in next. "With all due respect, General…but, you can't expect us to leave these people here. They're counting on our help to drive back the Imperials before they overrun this refinery."

His former captain sighed to that. "As much as I'd like to help you, Mars is right. We have a responsibility here…and we can't just abandon these people, not when you've arrived to give them hope of seeing another day."

Trilla could argue that destroying the birthplace of all Imperial inquisitors was more important than holding some random refinery on Kashyyyk, and truthfully, she didn't much care if these people died…

_No…you agreed to try…at least try._

The Empire couldn't possibly expect to see two Force-wielders leap the trenches when they returned, and if they hit them hard enough, they possibly could call this effort a lost cause, or it would at least buy them time to fall back. Once these partisans seemed safe, she imagined the three of them would join with that content.

And she knew Xur…he would try to help these people. It was why she fell in love with him when they were Jedi, because under that guise of a terrifying combatant with dark powers, he could never stand by while people depended on him. He'd done it all his life…even when she didn't know he was right beside her.

It was inspiring…to say the least…perhaps something she could learn from him again.

The zabrak knew he'd have to give up something to get what he wanted in this situation, Trilla could tell, and while slight reluctance lingered, it didn't last long.

"Do you have a plan?" he asked Raven.

The clone smirked. "Never thought you'd ask."

* * *

**Dathomir, 14 BBY**

**Tomb of Kujet**

Cal and Merrin stepped through the dark hallway, cut thinly and vertically through carved stone as a red-orange hue glistened off the walls, eliciting a visually dark feeling that only compounded the presence in the Force. It was a tight fit, but after traversing the horrific scene of death that this tomb projected, they were both feeling the need to complete their search quickly.

"This place…it's _horrifying_," Merrin trembled slightly as she trailed behind Cal, descending the steps. On the other side was a large chamber with multiple stone carvings, all depicting atrocious acts at the hand of Sage Kujet during his rule. The Dark Side was so heavily potent here that Cal felt it eating at his essence, begging to drain the light that flickered at his core. He experienced no fear, not after what he had faced, approaching the edge of the chamber at a strong pace.

His boots stepped atop a stone platform that sunk with his weight, and at the far wall a sarcophagus was suspended, shifting with his arrival.

BD whistled in awe while Cal watched it shift and open, revealing the spherical device he had seen depicted on Zeffo. Floating in a mesmerizing fashion, it secured itself atop a pedestal, and the chasm that once stood between them and the Astrium extended a bridge from below.

It was almost surreal…the artifact he had been searching for all this time was finally within reach, despite everything he had suffered along the way…waiting for him to claim it. The time for hesitation was over, and with confident steps, he approached the pedestal and gently removed the object, feeling its silvery and ancient coat against his hands. BD peeked over his shoulder to get a look for himself, and it almost felt like he held the beating heart of the Jedi Order in his grasp. For years he had thought they were gone forever, but now that chance was before him…a chance to rebuild and rekindle that fire into the galaxy.

"Finally found it," he gasped with a smile, turning back to Merrin, who was waiting at the end of the bridge.

She didn't look as enthusiastic as he, but he was too elated to notice. "It is real," she remarked, trying her best to stay positive, even with a slight bit of envy detectable in her tone.

"Merrin…this could be the key to the next generation of Jedi," he presented it to her, to which she accepted it into her grasp.

The nightsister didn't know how to feel with the Astrium…hearing also that Cal now had a chance to usher a rebirth and new age of the Jedi Order with the treasure that came with the artifact…brought back from the dead…from the brink of extinction.

"I'm happy for you, Cal," was all she could say, her joy for him capped by a deep sorrow she had finally been distracted from. She hadn't felt such happiness until she joined the crew of the _Mantis_, whether it had been her choice or not, but that joy had made her forget about her duty to her people…who no longer existed. Part of her was angry that she had let such feelings overtake her, putting the needs of a foreign religion against the needs of her own, risking her life for the continuation of the Jedi Order whilst her sisters remained sullied, dead and forgotten. Her responsibilities had become twisted, and her oldest fear returned in that moment.

The fear of being the last nightsister to ever traverse the galaxy.

Merrin handed it back to him. "But nothing can bring back my people…" she trailed off as he took it from her outstretched hand, the joy on his face fading away. "I should not have come here…I…I have to leave," she nearly cried, turning away and fading away into a green mist as Cal reached out.

"Merrin!" he called desperately. "Don't go!"

His voice made her pause, even as she spirit walked, halfway through the temple by now. She didn't dare look back…for she knew if she did, she would never be able to leave him again.

"Merrin…" Cal eased, still speaking if he could not see her. "Look…I know you're probably scared…I was too. Being alone for a long time…I was terrified the Empire would find out who I was…what I used to be."

She said nothing, just floating in space as she listened.

"But one day…a good friend of mine told me to go out and find my place in the galaxy," Cal recalled. "I didn't listen…but life had its funny way of making me realize that my path didn't end on Bracca…and if I could find a way to survive, then maybe there would be a chance for the Jedi after all. I took a risk, when I exposed myself…I didn't know there were other Jedi still out there, but I knew it would only be a matter of time until the Empire tracked me down and…"

He paused again, and Merrin felt herself turning back to him, against what her fear had told her.

"Being the last of our kind is a heavy burden…" Cal continued, the sincerity in his voice paramount. "I just want you to know that if there ever is a chance to save your people…I want to be at your side when you do it. We don't have to be alone…not anymore."

Merrin reappeared before him, her expression downcast, but his words rang true. "I've…spent years waiting for a chance to avenge my sisters. When I fought at your side against the inquisitor…and again in the arena, I had never felt more alive. I am worried, however, that their memory will be lost if I do not remain here."

Cal gave her a reassuring look. "Your people live on through you, Merrin. What would they have you do?"

She remembered all their faces…names she could no longer recall, but she could never forget how they taught her…how they treated her as one of their covens. If they were here now…they'd want her to _fight_…to show the galaxy that their fire had not gone out in the universe.

To show those that had tried to exterminate them…had failed.

"They would wish me to fight by your side…as I have," Merrin answered, to which Cal smiled. "Nightsisters and Jedi may no travel together…but we…_survivors_," she smiled. "We adapt."

He nodded, seemingly contemplating his struggling emotions after witnessing her leave and then return, but his relief was there. "Yeah…yeah, we do."

_Beep-doop-proo._

Merrin noticed BD atop Cal's shoulder. "What did he say?" she asked.

Cal patted the droid on the head. "He said you'll always be one of us."

She blushed, her arms crossing. "Thank you, BD…although Greez may not agree."

Cal scoffed as they began their walk out of the tomb. "Greez is just afraid of you…I think he likes having you around."

"I think Trilla likes me more than Greez does, and you made me spy on her."

"What? I didn't make you, I _asked_ you."

"The difference between those two statements is minimal."

Cal groaned, her only smiling at his distress, and in that moment, she truly felt at home.

Merrin was not alone, not anymore.

* * *

**So uh…yeah not an intense/insane chapter. Sorry! Switched gears about halfway through, deciding to focus on Cal this chapter instead, which actually lines up the next two events much better. I promise, the next chapter is where everything hits the crapper, and we will be able to dive head-first into the finale.**

**And, with this chapter, this story has reached the 200,000 word mark...something I never envisioned I'd reach, not even in the most idea of circumstances. Thanks for all of your great support thus far!**

**Stay healthy and stay safe.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	30. Retribution

**CHAPTER 25**

Retribution

"An eye for an eye, and the whole world will be blind."

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

E-11 blasters were being passed around like a relief effort with ration packs to a starving village, whilst armed partisan soldiers jogged around their makeshift barrier that had cut off imperial advance thus far. Coordinated orders were relayed in loud shouts, but other than that, it was certainly quiet. Everyone knew what was about to happen, and many had begun to assume the worst from the impending Imperial retaliation. Despite the need to wait for the partisan scouts to reveal what they were up against; tensions were high as the stakes had been raised.

Trilla could feel it. The Force was beginning to churn like a building cyclone, preparing to touch down on the world below, tearing up everything in its path. She couldn't envision it before, but there was an unease that had manifested not only within her, but the soldiers around her. Observing animals and insects scurried as far as they could from the coming conflict, knowing that nothing but death awaited them here.

She ran the scenarios in her head over and over. From what she could gather, this battle was becoming more of a statement than over control of a refinery, as the Empire could not tolerate open insurgent activity if it was to establish its grip on the galaxy. Kashyyyk was a treasure trove of natural resources, perhaps one of the most plentiful in the galaxy, and the Empire would spare no expense taking it back, despite the obvious tenacity of the wookies who resided here.

A perfect example was the one towering beside her, his grunts and growls slowly translating for her.

"…yes…" she mumbled; arms crossed as her mind struggled to keep up with one of her weaker languages. "I…well…I used to be a Jedi."

The wookie cocked his head, mumbling.

"Who…no, _what_…am I now?" she asked in confirmation, to which the furry giant nodded. "Well, I…I'm…"

That was never a question she asked herself. She wasn't an inquisitor any longer, but she didn't feel like she was a Jedi either…or if she ever would be again. So much had changed, regardless of everything she had been through. The way she interpreted the galaxy as well as the Force had somewhat evolved…seeing it as more of a resource of enhancement, and less of an ally as the Jedi preached. Its corruptive energies had proven destructive in an absolute fashion, not at all with her best interests in mind, and it had become apparent that it had a much more personal effect than the Jedi originally entailed. For years she had been led to understand it as separate…but it never felt that way, not in her experience.

Perhaps that was something she would speak to Xur about, when this was over.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, unsure as to why it mattered if she did or not to a complete stranger…maybe as a way to answer her question to herself. "All I know is I wish to fight the Empire…and maybe that's enough."

The wookie nodded, grunting in agreement.

"Commander."

Trilla turned to see Mars approaching, feeling a bit of déjà vu with him still dressed in purge armor. "Ready?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am. All units are in position…just waiting for the signal."

"Good."

The plan wasn't too complicated…just some basic bait and switch tactics with a little bit of surprises waiting. Battle strategy wasn't really her forte, as she much preferred small teams and subversion, but with the circumstances, there wasn't much to work with. Nonetheless, she knew her role, and was confident she could fulfill it.

"Think we could pull off the bastion maneuver?" Trilla asked as Mars stood beside her, as opposed to slightly at her back.

"Bastion?" he echoed. "Without your spinning hilt? I'm not sure that would work, Commander."

Trilla displayed her prosthetic hand, letting him hear the gears turn despite being concealed by her gauntlet and glove.

"You didn't tell me you lost your arm…Commander," he warily noted, seeming unsure as if it was a good idea to bring it up.

"Yes…lost it to…" she was going to say _Vader_, but the intense hatred that came with his name would not be of any help to her here. Her focus needed to be paramount, and Xur correctly preached that using the Dark Side now would only confirm the suspicions of the partisan leaders, to which she only needed to satisfy a bit longer. While their suspicions were reasonable, their disrespect was another matter, and she could only take so much more before she began to _deal_ with it. She never put up with it when she was a Jedi, and she certainly wouldn't now.

_Focus on what's important._

"It's too long of a story," she answered. "Anyhow, I don't need a crude mechanism to make that work. We'll just have to be more…particular."

Mars snorted. "Well…whatever you say, Commander. I'll follow."

Trilla groaned. "Mars…just call me Trilla."

"Right," he cleared his throat, straightening himself out. "I'll work on that, Commander."

She didn't like that the elite of her former platoon still seemed worried about disrespecting or upsetting her, when she really shouldn't be surprised. They'd spent four years working under a psychotic sadist who had them partake in truly atrocious actions, and they hadn't worked with her nearly enough as a Jedi to really know any better. Trilla wanted badly to repair that relationship, especially since she was rather fond of them, but that would take time as well as a little bit of care. Them blindly accepting that she was reformed simply because Xur said so wasn't good enough for her, and she knew it shouldn't be.

If she felt she needed to prove herself to _anyone_, it was the men of the 502nd.

Her commlink chimed. "Yes?" she answered, raising her wrist.

"_They're coming…_" Xur answered, trailing off.

"And?"

A pause followed, and she cocked her head with anticipation.

"_You up for climbing a walker?_"

* * *

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Hyperspace to Bogano**

The Astrium sat atop the central table amiss three bodies shivering with growing nerves about what was about to take place, the feeling of their entire journey since Bracca amounting to one, final moment where it would all pay off.

The seed of the Jedi Order would be claimed…at last…and yet Cal felt unsure. What if it was all a sham? What if the holocron had already been taken, or Cordova had second thoughts before going through with his daring plan?

What if this was all for nothing?

He wasn't sure if he would be able to live knowing he failed, and everything was now riding on his success with this mission. All those children…all those innocent lives were about to be changed forever, with the hopes of rekindling the fire of the Jedi Order that would one day burn the Galactic Empire to the ground.

It was tough not to reminisce on where he came from, and how he got here. His journey had been filled with plenty of trauma, but no shortage of adventure, and he could not be prouder of his new family. Cere, Greez, BD-1…all had a place in his heart…and the other, perhaps a larger one than he would admit.

She was sitting beside him, staring intently at the object with her back straight, seemingly contemplating something he could not identify.

"You think it will work?" he asked, probing the thoughts of Cere and Merrin, and even BD, who was standing straight beside his feet.

Cere sighed with a similar reserve. "It worked for Cordova…"

"You can make it work," Merrin assured, her tone supportive and quick, nearly cutting off Cere as she finished her thought. Almost immediately she flushed slightly red, pulling back as she cleared her throat. "I mean…I'm sure it will anyway."

He patted her back regardless. "Thanks, Merrin."

"Hey uh…is anybody hungry?" Greez waltzed by, pointing towards the kitchen as his sudden comment pulled the three of them from their concentration. "I was thinking of maybe cooking some…" he trailed off as the staring persisted. "I'm sorry…am I interrupting?"

Cere smirked. "No, _captain_…and we couldn't have gotten this far without you."

Greez blushed slightly, bashfully trying to downplay his contribution. "Ah, well, look…"

Cal wasn't going to let that slide, not after all the excellent maneuvers he had pulled off to shake the Empire, and also risking himself to extract him on Bracca. The latero may be a pain in the ass at times, especially with the whole Haxion Brood deal, but he was honest, and he'd made up for it in more ways than one.

"It's true, Greez," Cal seconded Cere, to which his head fell in embarrassment.

"…thank you," he bashfully replied. "I hope you get in there and find that holo-thing."

"_Holocron_," Cal corrected as he marched into the kitchen, leaving the three of them alone again.

"You've come a long way, Cal," Cere added. "Your strength is something…well, I think all of us badly needed."

He didn't believe that, not entirely. "If it weren't for you, Cere, I don't think any of this would be possible. You taught me things that I had never even considered, and I can't see myself navigating the trauma without your help."

Cere looked unsure as what to say, and he sensed her turmoil return, mostly bouts of issues with confidence, or just the horrific events that had led her here. Of everyone in the room, Cal could say with certainty that she was the strongest of all, and to be humble about it was simply unnecessary.

"If we should be complimenting anyone's strength, it's yours."

She smiled his way, letting her head droop. "Thank you, Cal."

Merrin had fallen back into her state of intense thought, and once Cal's moment with Cere faded, he nudged her. "What's up?"

The nightsister shook her head, seemingly trying to get it off her mind, but to no avail. "This holocron…are you sure it's something you _should_ find?"

It took a moment for Cal to process a question he never expected, and when comprehension never manifested, he scoffed. "What do you mean?"

"The children on that list…if you take them from their homes to train as Jedi…" she trailed off, and Cal could sense she was unsure whether or not she should continue. "Wouldn't they just be hunted like you?"

Cal almost cursed to himself as that had never crossed his mind, and while he was grateful to Merrin for asking the hard question, it felt like an impediment to all his work. He almost took offense to it, even if her tone was measured, as it felt to take a shot at his intelligence, as if he hadn't thought this all the way through.

_Had_ he thought this all the way through?

He took a chance to consider it fully. He'd seen what Trilla and Cere went through, and what the Ninth Sister said to him on Dathomir only reinforced that fear. If he _did_ find these children to begin their training as Jedi, could he even protect them in the first place?

_One thing at a time._

"It…has to be kept out of the hands of the Empire," Cal insisted, which was at least a fair point to retrieve it, and at that point Merrin's fear would become something they'd have to consider, but not now.

"It will help us put an _end_ to the Empire," Cere nudged him via the Force in reassurance, which reinforced his stance for now.

"Just keep that in mind, Cal," Merrin warned, to which he nodded.

"I will."

The ship blared the hyperspace alarm, and Greez immediately turned on his heel and back towards the cockpit. "Oh, change of plan, we're arriving."

* * *

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

To say the Empire wanted this refinery back would be a gross and vast understatement. Multiple AT-ST walkers were advancing towards the gorge that turned into their set battleground, and from the cliff edge Xur could see it all, as well as two hulking AT-ATs in the distance. How the Empire planned to traverse the piled gorge and into their kill box was an answer the zabrak was yet to determine, but from the naked eye all he could see was the first wave of stormtroopers basically told to run forward and don't look back. He growled to himself at such a reckless and wasteful strategy, reserved only to military forces who had bodies to spare, treating their men like useless pawns in a holochess game.

Nonetheless, the partisans would not pass up the chance to mow down Imperial troops in wholesale.

"They're throwing their lives away," Raven huffed, tuning his specs in prone position beside Xur. "Typical Imperial strategy. Throw waves of people at an enemy until they win."

"Well, if they're going to keep doing it, then we'll keep exploiting it," Xur surmised, pulling down his own specs, and then reactivating his commlink. "Trilla, the first wave is on its way."

"_Right. Lockdown, Mars, Brutis and I have a little present waiting for them…Bastion,_" she almost sneered.

"Bastion?" Xur asked.

"Heh," Raven chuckled. "I don't know how the Commander will do that without a spinning blade…but that's an old formation we used to use to advance on encampments."

The zabrak grimaced, feeling left out.

"Going to be tough without the old man Blaze, though," Raven remarked, and Xur felt a little emotional hearing his name again…a man he never got to say goodbye to. Even if he never turned against the Empire, he was still an admirable man, perhaps the only Imperial he had ever taken a liking to.

"Think he would've joined us in time?" Xur asked, as Raven had spent much more time with him.

The captain sighed. "Not sure. I don't think he knew about the whole torturing children thing. Brutis turned…I think Blaze would never have stood for that."

"We'll do this for him anyway," Xur declared, rising to his feet to face the small team behind him, outfitted with jump jets. Raven rose beside him, just as the stormtroopers breached the gorge and the partisans opened fire. Only a few hundred feet back were the AT-ST walkers, and Xur loosened out his neck, taking hold of both of his hilts.

"Plan of attack, sir?" Raven asked, more for old times' sake.

"Follow me."

* * *

"Advance!"

Trilla took point as Brutis, Lockdown and Mars kept up behind her in a diamond formation, her gold blade igniting brilliantly amiss the chaos of the beginning battle. Pushing past the barrier as the partisans opened fire on the charging stormtroopers, they advanced as one while Trilla deflected each bolt that came their way.

"Stay tight. Open fire," Trilla directed, and Mars and Brutis on her left and right side respectively pulled the trigger on TL-50 repeaters, the high-pitched volume of bolts tearing through white armor in wholesale. Bodies dropped as they approached their position, screams that fell into silence once they acquired smoldering holes through their brains, and they only kept coming.

"Air-burst, twenty meters," she called out, testing her prosthetic with its super-human articulation. A spinning blade would certainly be more efficient but protecting her squad with simply double vision and her insanely quick reflexes was much more rewarding, not to mention taking advantage of her lost limb.

Lockdown, situated immediately behind her, prepped his anti-armor attachment and called out, "Twenty meters…" prompting Mars to draw his own DC-17 pistol as their advance halted. "Firing."

Emitting a satisfying _plunk_ as the shell was launched, Mars traced is trajectory before firing one bolt. It tore through the shell once it neared a group of advancing Imperials, prompting it to discharge mid-air in a gory mess, vaporizing anyone too close, as well as mortally wounding those nearby. Pushing forward, Trilla's blade cut through the wounded as her tenacity increased, and Brutis drew his hammer in the close-quarters environment, leaving only terrible cries of anguish as his killing spree began. One trooper charged directly at Trilla in a bold attempt to slow her, but she only sidestepped and tripped him up, driving her blade through his chest as he fell. In a quick turn, she released a powerful Force push that knocked all enemies nearby off their feet, allowing her to return to her defensive stance as Lockdown claimed Brutis' spot.

She sneered as her aggression manifested, leaving no survivor in her wake until they hit the tight gorge. By now, most of the ground units had turned and run, and that was when she gave the order.

"Fan out and finish them all," she waved, a deep growl appearing at the end of her order.

"With pleasure," Brutis accepted, snapping the neck of his victim with a mere twist of his hand, blood splattered across his armor. Mars and Lockdown pushed forward with extreme prejudice, while Trilla centered herself momentarily, her eyes darting through the mass of fleeing troopers. Feeling her body vibrate, she unleashed the stockpiled energy into a bout of intense speed, fazing through existence as her blade cut through many bodies along the way, corpses hitting the ground simultaneously once she stopped.

And then, the sound of mechanized movement rattled the bloodbath.

Stamping over fallen bodies, covering the durasteel feet in a sick crimson red, the first AT-ST broke through, unleashing its forward cannons on the barrier behind them, just as more stormtroopers came flooding in.

"Commander!" Mars shouted in warning as they were now separated, facing an onslaught without their formation.

"Cut through their line! I'll deal with the walker," she ordered, and then let her internal hatred for the Empire blossom. Staring down the advancing mob of stormtroopers, she wiped the blood from her face.

She had work to do.

* * *

**Bogano, 14 BBY**

**Zeffonian Vault**

Cal felt, and Cere had agreed, that he should do this alone. It was Cordova's intention to only trust one person for this task, and only he truly understood its significance in entirety. He would've loved to have Merrin alongside him, and she had protested, but eventually she understood his sentiment.

The restoration of the Jedi Order was about to begin.

At the center of the vault, just as he remembered it, sat a circular altar at the floor, and in the middle was a perfect socket for the Astrium to be inserted. Already holding the beating heart within his glove, Cal decided that enough time had been wasted, and inserted the key.

BD whistled on his back as the entire vault rumbled, shifting and activating mechanisms that had remained dormant for millennia. Through the cracked sunroof, Cal spotted a massive end of a gyro sphere spin above, but even more intriguingly, a part of the wall revealed itself, maintaining a mirror-like glass finish.

"Amazing," Cal gasped. "The vault itself is built like a giant holocron, and there's…something about that wall…"

Despite the possibility that the holocron could reveal itself any minute, Cal felt himself drawn to the mirror, his legs carrying him despite his reservations. His boots sifted through shallow water as he approached, hand reaching out to the glowing reflection…until his skin touched upon the cold surface.

Flashing white, his body seized as he was hit with a psychometric echo, detached from reality as he felt his mind transported elsewhere…to a place in which the Force itself resided.

"Mark well and listen," the voice of Jaro Tapal echoed in his mind, even while his vision was still blinded. "For this is only the _beginning_."

"M-master?" Cal gasped, and then was granted a vision of a brilliant explosion, the ocean leaping into the sky as it erupted, cascading across an unfamiliar landscape. He could sense great relief with such destruction, and yet he could not decipher why such violence could possibly bring such joy.

Then he saw it…the holocron. It was green, unlike its more popular blue counterparts, and when he reached out, it glowed, and the empty faces of children dressed in Jedi robes surrounded him.

"I will teach them the ways of the Force," he declared, feeling his dream manifest into reality right before his eyes.

"Master Kestis…" many of them greeted.

_Master…_

Cal smiled. "Gather around everyone." There was so much he wanted to teach…so many things he could not wait to pass on to this group of talented children, who would one day be the next generation of Jedi knights, protecting the galaxy and defeating the Empire, once and for all. He could see it now…all those brilliant blades…and the flag of the Empire burning behind them.

"Master Kestis," one greeted, a boy, his tone low. "Do you think the Empire will find us?"

_What? Of course not…_

Yet that was not what he said, and soon another explosion ripped through the scene, and he felt himself crawling through mud and grime, the younglings trying desperately to keep up behind him. Blasterfire hazed above as they all cowered through a trench, terror infecting his students absolutely.

"The inquisitors have found us!" one shouted.

"Master, should we fight them?"

_Inquisitors…found us? How could they have so soon?_

Cal just kept crawling, unable to speak as the chaos ensued. The Empire was surrounding their position, their numbers insane and their intentions malevolent…the same he had felt when Trilla had found him on Bracca. So much hatred…such jealousy.

Such _fear_.

He knew he couldn't save them all, not against something as terrible as this, but he had to at least _try_.

The trench ended abruptly, and he rose to his feet, running through rocks and dirt until he spotted another youngling, cowering behind in hiding as an Imperial squad searched for him.

"Keep searching, they can't have gotten far…" one purge trooper remarked, his gun trained as Cal watched the youngling shiver in fear. The other stormtroopers appeared in his vision, and one pointed directly at the hiding place.

"Target sighted!"

The youngling screamed. "Help me Master Kestis!"

He couldn't…he was just as helpless as he was, and Cal's teeth grit in despair as he was frozen in place, reaching out in a pathetic fashion. Cal had promised these children he'd protect them…that he would train them well enough to defeat any enemy…any threat to their safety or the safety of others.

What kind of Master was he now?

The stormtrooper charged his blaster. "Moving i-…wait…gah!"

Just as suddenly as the Imperials, another trooper arrived, this one clad in black and gold armor, bearing an insignia on his chest Cal had never seen…opening fire on the advancing Imperials.

"Push forward," another in that same armor appeared, this one appearing as the leader of this new force. "Leave none alive!"

"The Alliance…they came!" the youngling cried in relief as he was rescued.

"Damn right we did. It's going to be alright."

_The…Alliance?_

Cal was transported again, and this time he spotted a circle of Imperial troops probing the area, although looking more like the prey than the predators this time around. To his joy, there were no younglings this time, and Cal felt an insatiable urge to draw his blade and cut down any who would dare come here with such intent…but once again, he was frozen in place.

"Command dropped the ball, the damn Alliance got here in time!" one purge unit griped at the front of the group. "We need to warn…" a near-horrifying sound echoed. "What was that?!"

"Sir, you don't think…"

"No! They wouldn't…ah!"

A caped figure appeared, their gold dual-blade cutting through the squad without a second thought. He heard a familiar grunt of effort behind a mask, and he could sense the terror this figure brought to any Imperial who laid eyes on them.

"It's her! Shoot he-," the purge unit ordered, until he was cut down as well.

"You are welcome to _try_. Die, Imperial scum!"

"_Ahhhh!_"

Before Cal's eyes could widen with recognition, he was transported again, this time standing in front of his grateful students as he shook hands with that same figure. They were certainly female, as the trooper had revealed, and with a direct look, he recognized the modified suit of the Second Sister, the Imperial emblems replaced with that of the one he saw on the first Alliance trooper.

"Thank you, Trilla," he said on instinct, releasing his grip on her hand. "We couldn't have survived without your help."

This vision felt more life-like and less freeze frame, and next he saw one of his faceless students run and jump into her arms, to which Trilla hugged them desperately.

"I knew you'd save us, Mom," they said, and Cal almost gasped.

"Of course," Trilla assured. "I'd never let anything happen to you."

_Trilla…with a child?!_

"I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner," Trilla apologized, holding her child in her arms, to which he could not identify. "I'm just glad everyone is safe."

"It's alright," Cal nodded, turning back to his students. "What do you all say?"

"Thank you!" they said in unison, and Cal's vision went white again, before seeing hundreds of images flash before his eyes.

"This is but one potential future," his master narrated. "Light the fire that will forge the shield. Then, the galaxy will rejoice."

_Forge the shield…the shield for what?_

He regained his vision before a mirror, dressed in Jedi robes, his beard trimmed and clean. Cal felt older, but his power and knowledge were second to none. Around him stood hundreds of Jedi, two that resonated far more powerful than the others…all of them looking to him for guidance. Stepping forward, he reached out to the mirror, and he saw his present self, looking on in awe at what he may become, before feeling the psychometric echo dissipate into nothing.

Cal released his hand from the wall, looking down in shock at what he had just witnessed. If what had just been displayed was his future should he seek out these children…then who would he be not to?

_Light the fire that will forge the shield._

He could only assume that the fire was the Jedi Order, but the shield…that was another matter.

_Beep, deet-deet?_

Cal smirked. "I uh…saw something good, BD…something good."

_Doo-pree._

"You're right…we should get the holocron."

* * *

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

This was a little _too_ easy.

Brutis could tell with just a feeling. The Empire was wasteful, and certainly lacking in terms of battle strategy, but to throw so many lives away like this didn't make any sense. They had failed multiple times in their attempts to take this refinery back, so to think they believed this strategy even had a remote chance of working required a special level of stupidity.

Or silent brilliance.

"Something isn't right," he mumbled to himself behind cover, just as he took down another trooper with his TL-50.

Petro, close by, pulled his vibroblade from the gut of a charging trooper, the blade slick with blood and other substances Brutis didn't care to identify. "What?" he asked, using Force enhanced reflexes to sidestep bolts and take down another trooper.

"This is too easy," he remarked, watching Trilla advance faster than he could track, shoot upwards and slice the first AT-ST's forward guns clean off, before riding her momentum to the other side and cutting its legs free with a swift motion. It creaked and whined before falling in a heap before it could even do any real damage, and the loss of the fire support halted the advancing mob.

"Heh, I think the Empire is just stupid," Petro smirked, sliding his blade over his back to switch to his E-11, firing from close by.

_Maybe…but…not this stupid._

Petro charged forward, joining the routing advance as partisan troops hopped the barrier, letting out cries of victory as they once again had the Empire on the run. Brutis rose to his feet and readied his hammer, but something still didn't smell right, so he elected to keep close to Petro should things go sour. Trilla cut down as many stormtroopers as she could, his old commanding officer beginning to look much more reminiscent of the inquisitor that certainly still resided within her. He didn't mind it at all, as long as she was pointing her sadist impulses towards those who deserved it.

_And they all deserved it._

If they were going to throw men away, then he would oblige them.

Brutis charged towards a fleeing white armor, knocking him down with a powerful shoulder charge, before slamming his hammer atop the man's helmet, leaving nothing but charred skin and shattered bones behind as he moved to the next. Petro was nearly as tenacious, cutting them at their calves so they could not flee, before finishing them off with efficient stabs and slit throats.

He was proud…turning a little Jedi into a killing machine, but not a _sadistic_ killing machine. There was little to no emotion with each of the boy's attacks, only efficiency, taking no joy in the pain he was inflicting. A battle was never personal…until it was.

More stormtroopers met a grim fate before they finally hit the front with Trilla, who had a wider sneer on her face than Brutis was comfortable with. She reached out with a distinct gripping reverberation, and a stun-stick wielding scout trooper groaned as her lightsaber breathed fire into his stomach, before dropping him to the ground in a heap. One bolt impacted her shoulder during her movement, but she shook it off with little reaction, leaping forward and tossing bodies over her head as more troopers were murdered with merciless brutality.

"She _is_ different…" Petro trailed off, as she bore most of the attention for now.

Brutis actually smirked this time around. "She's just getting a little payback on these fuckers. Let 'er at it."

Petro seemed content with that, and he moved to join her. Brutis reached out to stop him, but his armor stopped a stray bolt cold, and his attention was forced to move elsewhere.

* * *

Trilla was ecstatic. Cutting down so many imperial troopers felt so _right_, almost like a righteous excuse to unleash the worst parts of her all at once. She used fear tactics, taunting and brutal, unstoppable and merciless savagery upon each of her victims, killing so many shivering men as her face was the last thing they ever saw.

"Someone kill that bitch!" an orange-shoulder called out, trying his best to consolidate his reeling troops as Trilla advanced, man by man. More screams ensued as her blade cut through flesh and bone, tasting blood as the Dark Side rose within her.

"So much _fear!_" she remarked, twirling her blade and zipping forward, leaving behind a trail of bodies that groaned and fell flat. Trilla fed on that fear, lifting the next group of men while she deflected incoming fire, and tossing them into one another with a quick gesture. Laughing manically, she tormented her former tormentors, dodging blaster bolts with ease, and snapping necks as she came by, using her latest victim as a meat shield.

She was beginning to realize why she had been forced to do everything herself when she was a slave of the Empire. At least insurgents put up a fight, but these…if she did so much as look at the shivering excuses for soldiers in white armor, they tucked tail and ran the other way, or foolishly stood still with their E-11 blaster at full auto. Cutting them down almost felt like doing the Empire a favor.

But it was more a favor for her than anyone else. It was like an addiction…her raging thirst for blood slithering its tail around her heart, injecting raw dopamine into her bloodstream as bones cracked and screams filled her ears. She wanted _more_…she wanted them _all_ to suffer.

One charged her way as more of his comrades were ruthlessly cut down, winding up his stun stick for a powerful swing. She smirked as she ducked effortlessly underneath and reached out with her mechno arm, the digits clasping around his neck as she heaved his legs off the ground. She relished in the life that writhed from his body, and the bolts of another hopping into defense only found her gold blade, snapping her wrists in expert fashion as both his bolts ripped through his brain and his heart.

All the pain…all the torture she had felt…it was all pouring from her like liquid tibanna, requiring only one match to finally light it ablaze forever. Every stormtrooper she killed were the ones who watched her scream for hours on end, suffering just as she had…earning the death she had yearned to give them since that day.

Retribution for all that she had lost.

"Trilla!"

Someone shouted her name, just as she was about to close her fist and end this man's life, almost like an echo through the chaos of battle. Turning towards the trail of destruction she had left behind, Petro ran through the blaze almost in slow motion, desperately begging for her attention. It was faint…a whisper of danger sense that erupted into a bonfire, shivering her spine until her head whipped to the stomping AT-ST that bore down upon her.

Its cannons oozing with charged energy.

Petro collided into her side, carrying her just far enough to miss the superheated beams as they incinerated the grass where she once stood, the resulting explosion silencing her hearing and blinding her momentarily. Her grip on the stormtrooper's neck was long relinquished, and all she felt next was the hard impact of her back against the surface.

The haze wore off in time, and the rush she felt from her killing spree was snapped from her consciousness, and immediately the pain from her sustained injuries mounted. A blaster wound on her shoulder electrified her nerve endings, as well as multiple bone fractures she sustained from the explosion.

She could only imagine what kind of state Petro was in.

"_Ahhhhhh!_" she heard him scream, and she herself had to hold back vomit from erupting from her mouth as she dared to attempt movement.

"_Kid!_" the deep roar of Brutis came next, and her blurred vision focused on her former second in command as he batted away two stormtroopers standing between him and them with his mighty hammer. Sliding to his knee as he unleashed his TL-50, he shook Petro was his free hand. "Come on, you've got to get your ass back up!"

"I…I can't, _agh!_" he cried.

Brutis growled when his eyes met hers, only to return to him. "Kid…if you fucking die on me, I'll kick your ass! What in the fuck were you thinking?!"

"It's…" he coughed. "It's what I should've done…years ago."

_Petro…run! Just run!_

_ I'm not leaving you!_

_ If you stay, you'll die, just like the others. Petro, please…_

_ Trilla, I'm not leaving you!_

_ If you die, then I failed! Please…just go! Go! Run!_

The guilt she felt was incredibly overwhelming. She had let herself go…she let her false persona take over just for a moment, and in her complacency, she let Petro take a blast for her…a _boy_…a boy who had been her responsibility all along.

Desperately she searched the Force for the song of his pain…she begged it to fill her ears and allow her to take it from him…to free him of the burden she had been forced to uphold.

It never came, no matter how hard she focused, no matter how much she begged. Her power was gone _forever_.

The AT-ST turned its head, and by then, Trilla had accepted her judgement.

* * *

**Bogano, 14 BBY**

**Zeffonian Vault**

It was slightly underwhelming when Cal turned towards the altar, as nothing was waiting there for him. The vision depicted the holocron floating before him, so he rather foolishly expected the same to occur here…which in hindsight was probably a false assumption.

Only when he looked down at the hatch where the holocron was locked away, it was empty.

The holocron was _gone_.

Two blades ignited, the same ignition tune of inquisitor red, and part of him sunk into a state of raw confusion and fear. After the vision he had seen…had Trilla really double crossed him? That would certainly be an interesting turn of events, especially after getting the subtle hint from the Force to trust in the woman who very much so did not deserve it from him.

Frankly, he had a bad feeling he'd see her here anyway.

His green eyes saw an inquisitor, and from the corner of his eye they resembled Trilla somewhat, until the dirty blonde hair and shorter height destroyed those assumptions.

"Hey cutie," she remarked, a chilling smile that would shatter mirrors drawn across her face. "Looking for something?"

Cal blushed slightly, but it quickly faded as he grabbed ahold of his hilt. "Who the hell are you?"

She giggled. "Certainly prettier than the other beauty who chased after you. It's a real shame the two of us have never met. We were supposed to on Ordo Eris until…well…" she simulated the breaking of a neck with her own.

Cal narrowed his eyes. "You were there too?"

"Oh, my boy, everyone was there," she cooed, beginning to circle him with her blade humming with the roar of crimson. "You know, you should be more grateful to Trilla. That lovely lady has saved your life more ways than one."

The Jedi pieced it together…sporadic mentions from Xur, a piece of Trilla's story she had told him in their cell…the blonde inquisitor…one of Trilla's oldest friends from before even the war.

He pointed. "You're Effa."

Her expression faded from passive delight to held-in displeasure, which was virtually bursting at her seams. "Third Sister…I prefer, but you didn't know my rule quite yet, so I'll let that slide. Consider it a…gift for a dashing young Jedi such as yourself."

The flirts she sent his way were becoming more repulsive the longer they persisted, and once she began to pace back towards the entrance, he realized he was only wasting time.

"Where's the holocron?" he ignited his purple blade for a matter of intimidation, to which she wasn't affected much by.

"Holocron?" Effa paused, looking stunned, certainly by choice, and reached into her back pouch, revealing the same green cube he had seen in his vision. "You mean this?"

* * *

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

Xur felt the wind rush past his ears as he leapt to the next AT-ST, the one behind him crippled and collapsing in a durasteel heap where his blades had melted through its shell. Partisans with jump jets overhead unloaded their grenade payloads, vaporizing stormtroopers while some were shot out of the sky, their limp bodies riding out the jet stream until colliding into the surface. Raven was managing fine with his own jump pack, mostly utilizing it to escape outnumbered situations, since their personal advance was far ahead of the Partisan barrier.

He'd hoped it would have gone a lot better than it had so far. They were putting a massive dent in Imperial numbers, but he knew it wouldn't much matter. There were still two AT-ATs advancing in the distance, and once they turned their massive cannons towards their barrier, it would be over for them. Without air support they didn't have a viable method to take them down, and certainly not the firepower.

Not to mention the fact that they would just keep coming.

_Then we'll take what we can get._

Xur prided himself as being a damn good tactical commander, or at least adept at boosting the morale of his troops, but he was smart enough to know when it was a losing battle. Leading rag-tags wasn't exactly his strength, but still, losing to the Empire was not appealing in the slightest.

Refocusing on the battle, Xur maintained his death grip on the AT-ST top hatch as it struggled to shake him off, but merely applying a strong Force stick to his feet held him in place. Igniting his blade, he severed the lock and flipped it open, plunging into the cockpit. The pilot gasped in surprise as he drew his pistol, only to have his arm severed off and heart impaled within a few moments. Pushing the body aside, Xur manned the controls, taking a moment to familiarize himself.

"Okay…throttle, guns…stick?" he pressed forward on the yoke and the AT-ST took a step, bringing an excited smile to his face. "Let's fucking go."

Stormtroopers were stunned to see the sudden turn of their armored support, the side-set minigun peppering the ground around them as multiple troopers met their demise. Xur wasn't afraid to press forward, using the massive feet to also crush bodies underfoot while he unleashed the forward cannons, the explosions satisfying as they cleared whole squads at a time. Eventually they took the hint, firing at his armor plating only to see it harmlessly dissolve on contact. The zabrak gripped the yoke tightly as he pulled the trigger, advancing to the nearest walker as quickly as he could in hopes of slowing their support.

"Raven!" Xur yelled into his wrist comm. "I've jacked a walker. Watch your fire!"

The sound of blasterfire whizzing by came through on the other end. "_Which one, sir?_"

Xur scoffed. "Look for the one clearing the battlefield of its own troops," he remarked, before spotting a heavy armed trooper fire his shoulder rocket launcher. With lightning reaction, he reached out and stopped the shell in its tracks, before reangling it to slam back into its origin point, vaporizing his assailant.

"_Oh…I think I see you. Sorry, General!_"

"Watch my back! I don't exactly have a rear-view mirror on this thing," he ordered, and just as so he watched jump-troopers shoot just above him to the battle behind. With friendly units out of his line of fire, he advanced, clearing out more squads with relative ease.

He chuckled to himself. "Oh Trilla, I hope you're seeing this…"

That was when a distinct cry of distress echoed within the Force, conveniently just after his target AT-ST unleashed a flurry of blasterfire that kicked up a large chunk of its impact point, and the distress became that of pain…_regret_. Whoever was projecting it…they had given up.

_Trilla._

Primal instinct kicked in, and Xur slammed the throttle to maximum speed, ignoring the threats that amassed below. His concern and focus were singular, pushing desperately onward in hopes of reversing those despondent thoughts…not after all they had suffered.

Xur was greeted to the heart-stopping empty click that signaled the heavy cannons were recharging, an obvious oversight with his inexperience, and desperation kicked in, his options narrowing down to one.

As the AT-ST turned to fire, Xur collided his own into it, and the force of the impact carried them both to the ground. The zabrak moved quickly, pushing the already loose hatch out from its socket and leaping from the cockpit just before it all burst into flames, landing with a roll. Stunned stormtroopers surrounded him, and he immediately had both blades ignited, deflecting the incoming bolts with ease as many met their end with their foolish choice. Lightning arced from his hands as he cleared out many of them in one attack, chaining to their fellow troopers as it incinerated their insides.

Right on cue, Lockdown and Mars came up from behind, charging forward with their blasters helping to clear the area.

Then he immediately probed for Trilla.

"General!" Lockdown called out, and once he reached him, he did not stop, continuing his run past him. "The Commander is down! Hurry!"

"Where?!" he demanded, following in tow, but it didn't take long for him to spot Brutis kneeling before two downed bodies…Trilla and Petro.

"Trilla!" he cried, sprinting to her side, graced with the horrific image of her face bloodied and painted with an expression of despair. He didn't even look at Petro…who was certainly lucky to still be breathing at all. "Trilla…" he reached down and gripped her upper arm, to which her distant eyes finally focused on him.

"_Xur…_" she coughed. "Petro…he…"

"Did something stupid," Brutis answered for her, his tone bitter, and Xur finally looked down at the boy, obviously in incredible pain, not to mention the burned skin of his legs.

"Hang on, kid," Lockdown eased, activating his MAHI while Mars watched their quiet perimeter for the time being. As the scan came out, his head only shook. "He has internal damage and severe burns. We need to get him out of here as soon as possible."

"I'll do it," Brutis grumbled, lifting him off the ground, only to earn an anguished cry from him.

"Brutis!" Mars protested.

"We don't have time, move!" he shouted, pushing past him and carrying the pained young man away from the battle with haste.

"Trilla…Lockdown, check Trilla!" Xur demanded, sensing the rising wave of Imperials approaching, and knowing Trilla's life was in serious jeopardy. The commando seconded his thoughts, initiating the scan quickly, and his reaction was more favorable.

"Minor burns, minimal bone fractures," he relayed, pulling a stim from his belt and carefully injecting it via her neck. "This should get her moving for now."

She groaned in quiet relief, but there was a large amount of guilt still weighing her down. "Hey, come on, you need to get up," Xur urged, helping her rise, pulling her arm over his neck. "Mars, help her back to the barrier," he traded her off, knowing he could do more with himself free. "Raven, pull everyone back. You're about to be overrun!"

"_We already are! I had to pull everyone out of there…what's left of us anyway_," he remarked.

"Just get back here. Trilla and Petro are hurt. We may need to butt out…" he partly sighed; his saber ignited as he watched their flank.

"_Sir…_"

"I know…Captain…I know."

* * *

**Bogano, 14 BBY**

**Zeffonian Vault**

"…how?" Cal gasped. "The Astrium…"

"Oh, we got one of those," Effa rolled her eyes, tossing the holocron up and down in a nonchalant fashion, before stowing it back in her pouch. "We're resourceful. I was shocked when I read even two of them still survived after all these years. Trilla's notes…while deranged and rather incoherent, were incredibly thorough," she sneered, repositioned back at the entrance. "She knew everything about you…as I do now."

Cal's frustration was building as her taunts dug in, feeling his fist clench around his hilt.

"Now with this, I will regain the favor of my master," she blissfully reminisced. "Perhaps finally he will see the value I can bring to his world."

"You think I'm going to let you walk away with the holocron?" Cal stepped forward, his blades humming as he was now boiling for a fight, not about to come all this way for nothing.

But Effa's eyes just paced away, darting from one side to the next as her taunts only multiplied, until she shrugged. "Yeah."

Cal almost laughed, stunned. "Really? Obviously, you don't know everything about me."

"Overestimation of your own abilities? I think that's rather on the dot."

"If you're so sure then why are you walking away?" he challenged.

"Oh…_that_," she mock recognized. "Boys?"

Multiple pairs of boots hit water as purge troopers descended from above, blasters, staffs, stun sticks and hammers ready at once. He counted six in all…which was far more than he had ever taken at once.

"Have fun!" she called out, disappearing via the tight entrance.

Cal growled to himself, knowing these men were just here to stall him more than anything, all because he had let his complacency take over.

"Ready to die, Jedi?" one of them taunted, charging his electrohammer.

_No time to worry about that now. Now…we just need to get out of here._

"Watch my back, BD."

_Doop deet!_

* * *

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

Trilla's pain was not what was dragging her down. Bone fractures, burns, scars…all of those were trivial to her. She'd suffered lightsaber marks many times and continued her duel without interruption, continuing attack strings even if her opponent had landed a hit. It was part of who she had become, and she had embraced it, even if the catalyst behind her pain tolerance had been intensely traumatic, to say the least.

It was her _mind._

Watching Brutis carry Petro's body had done something to her psyche. Even after Katarr, she had never felt much regret for all she had done, and even Xur had agreed with that standpoint. Why should she? She did what she had to do to survive in her situation, and with all the Empire had done to her, she couldn't possibly be held entirely responsible for her own turn.

And yet her lust for pain and blood had resulted in the current state that Petro was now in, and there was no sound reasoning that could possibly take the blame off her. That feeling she experienced was only multiplying with each step Mars helped her take, stemming back to the innocents she had tormented, the Jedi she had ruthlessly murdered or captured, even the soldiers she had mistreated along the way. She remembered Blaze, how he had dropped dead before her after her rage had exploded within her, and even the tears she had wept then were not of sorrow for him…but of regret for even caring in the first place. For years…she had been so _horrible_…to Xur, to Raven, to Cere…

To Cal Kestis.

What had all of that hatred, bloodlust and savagery ever granted her? Satisfaction? Maybe momentarily, but it faded in time, and the nightmares she had inflicted on all those she tormented were _forever_.

Trilla Suduri was never perfect, hell, she was certainly far from it, but at least she _understood_ something the Second Sister could never possibly comprehend.

Restraint is _life_, not death.

The life growing within her was proof of that, and the love she had felt since Katarr had granted her more happiness and satisfaction than she had ever felt as an inquisitor. She could do far more for herself preserving than she could destroying, even if that meant being selfless.

Even if that meant trying to be a Jedi again.

Feeling was beginning to solidify in her legs again, and her mind felt set…at last.

"Mars…I can make it," she assured, pulling her arm from his neck as she took her first steps, much to his displeasure.

"Commander…" he reached out, but she waved him away as she wobbled along, finding her balance as she calmed her mind, letting go of the pain that had ravaged her. Accepting it for what it was, and subsequentially disregarding her anger, even towards those she felt deserved it, she felt her soul gleam.

Solace…what she had desperately searched for…she had _finally_ found it.

Once they reached the barrier, Brutis was already trudging up the steep side, pushing past protesting Partisans who seemed more concerned about their kill counts than the life of the injured boy.

"Get the fuck off this barrier!" Brutis shouted, almost in desperation as the crowd of troops became too thick. "Let me through, or I'll _move _you!"

"Piss off, coward!" one spat. "Get back in the fight!"

Trilla opened her mouth before she could stop herself, marching up just behind him. "That boy is hurt! If we don't-."

"Fuck off!"

"Murderous whore!"

"Nobody asked you, honey-tits!"

The onslaught of insults mounted, and she could already feel her new resolve tested after only a moment, but she remained in perspective before doing something rash…which they all certainly deserved.

"Stow your tongues, men!" Mars shouted in a demanding tone. "The Captain has ordered all forces to pull back!"

"Retreat?! Never!"

She'd seen selfish before, and practiced it many times, but this was not what she expected. Trilla knew the sides were not so black and white when it came to Saw's forces, but it seemed as if he had trained them to be flat out _intolerant_ of anyone whose values did not align with theirs…enemy of the Empire or not.

A stable resistance could never be built off that, as a fire cannot be put out with fire, only destroy everything around them.

Blades hummed from behind as someone landed, and her head jerked to see Xur approach, his breathing heavy and face covered in ash. "What's going on?"

Many Partisans were only becoming rowdier as the shadow of the next Imperial wave approached in the distance…the one that would finish them once and for all if they stayed. Brutis lost all patience and began to shove through with his immense strength, only to have blasters raised in a threatening manner.

"What the hell?" Mari finally appeared. "Shore up! We have to hold them off!"

Brutis growled. "If I have to kill every single one of you fuckers just to get this kid some bacta, you know I will!"

She shook her head. "I understand you're concern, but we can't falter, not now!"

"It's _over!_" Xur finally shouted, his voice demanding the attention of everyone atop the barrier, many who had served with him before. "Look…I know a lot of you have lost a lot to this regime…trust me, we've all suffered terrible things…but we can't hope to stop them if we all fall today! This galaxy has forgotten what it means to hope, but we, despite the odds, will not let that fire die!"

Trilla noticed nods of approval beginning to surface, and her eyes fixated on him as his speech continued.

"I'm not Saw…but I know if he were here, he would want us to survive and fight another day, rather than waste our lives in a battle that cannot be won. The Empire may take this refinery, but they will never take our tenacity, our grit and our willingness to do _whatever_ it takes to piss them _off!_"

Nods became cheers.

"Today we've shown the Empire the price of victory, now let's make sure that blood we spilled amounts to something. Return to the shadows to strike _right_ when they think us beat and _rip_ out their hearts once and for all!"

The cheers intensified, and she smirked to herself.

"Now let's move!" he waved on, and the barrier began to clear, finally allowing Brutis to push on, back to the _Fury_. Almost on cue, Raven landed with his jetpack whining as it turned down, his armor dirty and filled with patches of greenery and mud that had struck to the surface.

"I'm…all that's left…General," he admitted. "The Empire…they're here…in force."

Trilla felt sympathetic, and her hand gripped his shoulder. "I'm sorry Captain, I'm sure you did the best you could."

He seemed stunned, but her words sunk in quickly. "Yeah…thanks, Commander."

Xur squeezed her shoulder in support before returning his attention to him. "We're pulling out, Raven. Trilla, I need you back on the Fury and ready to get us the hell out of here," he ordered, flicking his head towards his Captain, as well as Mars.

"Wait…" Trilla grappled his arm before he could walk away. "Where are you off to?"

He smirked. "I've heard this tree sap their refining is explosive…so we're going to give the Empire a little _parting gift_."

Mars rubbed his hands together. "I like the way you think, General."

* * *

**Bogano, 14 BBY**

**Zeffonian Vault**

Cal fell to his knees as another stun stick beat him down, his nerve endings on fire from the constant bombardment of electricity. The next he deflected, batting the staff away and impaling his assailant with a spin, only to be hit in the back with another prod. Flipping around to face the remaining four troopers, all with staffs or hammers, Cal wiped the blood from his mouth and split his blade, twirling the twin violet blades. Not giving them a chance to think, he charged forward, deflecting two hits and landing a mark on one, only to be swiped off his feet via a kick to his leg.

His exhaustion was mounting. It had taken luck to kill the first two troopers, but they were learning quickly, adapting to his fighting style and taking advantage of their numbers, landing hits from behind as he tried to engage.

He _had_ to win. He _had_ to get that holocron.

Cal turned frantic, tackling one to the ground in a sudden pounce and raising his blade for the kill, but his victim caught his arm with both hands, grunting with great effort as he held off the thrust from ending his life. A strong hand ripped at the back of his collar, and BD flew from his back as a boot slammed into his jaw, feeling his skull whip back from the impact.

Blood poured from his mouth as he tried to fight off his ailment, but he was kicked over again, a boot planted on his chest. All four of their weapons were plunged into his chest, and he spasmed with electrocution, his brain cooking, his lungs scorching. His scream echoed through the vault as he could no longer move, his muscles not obeying his commands as they frantically acted to their leisure.

Then, it all stopped.

Bones cracked. Blood splattered over his body. Cal watched some of the most gruesome deaths he had ever witnessed, their bodies suddenly twisted and contorted in horrible ways as a distinct green mist circled around them. His hazy vision peeked through to spot Merrin, her hands outstretched, and her eyes burning with intense hatred.

"You will not harm him!" she declared, her voice augmented and utterly horrifying. With a swift motion, a scythe cut through the air, and four heads cracked against the ground…soon followed by their bodies.

Cal coughed, still unable to move as he choked on his own blood, and BD sputtered and sparked as he forced himself to walk towards his companion, his rectangular head pushing against Cal in an effort to help him up.

"Cal!" Merrin shouted, running past the bloody mess she had created and falling to one knee. "You should not have come alone…I warned you!"

He coughed, finally regaining some feeling in his muscles. "The holocron…Merrin…we have to get the…"

Merrin shook her head. "Stay still! The Empire is gone…and if they are the ones who have taken it, then it is gone too."

_The holocron…gone._

He'd failed. He gave into his arrogance, and thus put all the children on that list at risk of being found, taken and enslaved by the Empire.

But failure wasn't the end…it was merely a necessary part of the path…and persistence _revealed_ the path.

Cal shuffled, grunting as he tried to stand, only to have Merrin stop him.

"Cal, you're hurt. Just sit still."

"No," he denied. "We don't have time for this. We need to get back to the Mantis…and we need to find where she's taken the holocron."

Merrin's brow arched. "Cal…"

"Come on, BD," Cal waved as he finally regained his footing, and the bipedal droid crawled aboard his back. With a snap of his fingers, he was granted a stim, and he groaned in relief as his pain dissipated, his stance straightening, his breathing normal. Merrin only looked on in worry, but eventually let it be. "We need to tell Cere and come up with a plan."

The nightsister still didn't want him walking, but he felt his own will transfer to hers, and her trust in him only increased in that moment, a small nod of approval following.

"I'm sorry…Cal," she apologized.

"Yeah…I'm sorry too."

* * *

**Kashyyyk, 14 BBY**

**Imperial Refinery**

Xur sprinted as blasterfire peppered the ground around him, his blade ignited as he turned, deflecting fire with ease from the chasing death trooper squad. Their E-11D blasters emitted the deep bursting tone with each pulling of the trigger, and the heavy bolts hit much harder than he was used to sending back. Raven and Mars kept up behind him. The _Fury _was only a few meters away, and Lockdown was out to provide covering fire immediately.

"Come on!" he shouted. "You're almost there!"

The zabrak drew his second blade, trying to keep up with the increasing volume, but he could feel his guard beginning to slip up ever so slightly. Raven had reached the ramp, and he groaned with intense effort as he forced himself to pick up the pace, utilizing Vaapad strategies to almost form an orange ball of energy around himself in defense.

"General, let's move!" Mars shouted, his pistols blazing beside him as Lockdown lobbed a thermal detonator from his spot. Exploding in a devastating shockwave, it momentarily ended the firing, giving Xur a moment to breathe and turn towards the ship.

Xur's foot hit the ramp, and Mars said, "General, we-," his voice stopped mid-sentence by an armor-piercing bolt that ripped through his head and dropped his body to the ground.

"Mars!" Raven screamed, and Xur could not find the words…or action to follow up. They'd made it…just a second ago he was alive…breathing…telling him he was…he was…

He would never know.

Lockdown's steel grip on Xur's wrist pulled his shell-shocked body into the _Fury_ while Raven pulled in the rest of his dead brother, just before the loading ramp shut and the engines roared into life.

Raven ripped off Mars' helmet as the ship shook for takeoff, only to see his aimless eyes and limp muscles. "Mars…Mars!" he grimaced, fighting off tears.

Xur could not even speak…his eyes stuck open wide as his breathing almost disappeared. Mars was alive…just a few moments ago, and now…he was…gone? He'd known Mars since he was a teenager. Clankers couldn't kill him…he was invincible…_Xur_ was invincible.

How could he have let him die?

"Captain," Lockdown urged. "Captain…the bomb."

Tears did not flow from Raven's eyes, but he somberly nodded, pressing his thumb onto the detonator and dropping it to the durasteel floor.

Moments passed, and no words were exchanged, not until footsteps came around the corner.

"Petro is stable, but we…" Trilla's words left her throat as she saw what had shocked them straight. Her chin shivered as she knelt beside Mars, seemingly disbelieving of what she saw…not until her hands brushed over his cold face did she realize that he was gone…_forever_.

And none of them could say goodbye.

* * *

**That was so much better than before, as I hope many of you who read my original post for this chapter will agree. If you never had a chance to catch what I had written before, then you have spared yourself, certainly. I believe this is more what I had been searching for in the first place. This chapter was never meant to have a happy ending, but now we can get into the endgame…at last.**

**After that previous slip-up, and with me beginning the current college quarter, I will be in less of a rush to roll out chapters as before…since it is obvious that fatigue is catching up to me! Never have I written a 200k word story (my previous most was 61k!), let alone in four months, so I might pace out the final couple so you guys can get the best quality you deserve. I actually am taking a Fiction writing course, so maybe I'll become less of a shit writer in 10 weeks :P**

**This story will not be ending after I conclude the main plot, though! I plan on doing one-offs and smaller arcs to continue, as well as a few "in-betweens", so don't worry about this coming to a true end anytime soon.**

**Thanks for your patience as I sorted this out! Stay healthy and stay safe! I'd love to know how you're feeling about this story thus far, so don't be afraid to review!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	31. Unwavering Faith

**CHAPTER 26**

Unwavering Faith

"We weren't just born to fade…"

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Aimless Space**

Trilla took another drink from her small glass, swallowing roughly with a torrent of air blown through her mouth afterwards. As the liquid snaked down her throat, she felt her cheeks begin to fuzz and her muscles relax, but the pleasing effects of being tipsy weren't doing much for her mood.

It had been a few days since Kashyyyk, and the shockwaves of Mars' death were still being felt around the ship, and not even the news of high Imperial casualties after the refinery was obliterated helped alleviate it. The fireteam of Mars, Lockdown, Raven and Xur had been together for nearly eight years, and to survive one war, only to lose a member afterwards felt like a harsh reality check for each of them. She'd done her best to be there for all of them, even if she herself had been close to the former ARC trooper, and she knew her mourning would pass long before theirs ever did. Xur hadn't cried yet…but she could tell he was holding it back, and she wasn't about to let him face it alone, not after all he had done for her.

For now, she kept her distance, trying her best to at least keep them one step ahead of the Empire while they tried to cope with this devastating blow. How they were supposed to raid the Fortress now…it just didn't seem possible anymore.

"We need him back," Rava interjected her thoughts, plugged into the cockpit port.

The brunette narrowed her eyes, already having trouble with focusing as her buzz took hold. "What?"

"The zabrak…the man to which you refer to as your 'boyfriend'," the VI reiterated, her domed head turning to her. "The one who has not left your room since the unfortunate passing of one CT-6794."

Trilla sighed as that unfortunate fact was made clear to her once again. Xur really hadn't left her room in a few days, only to remain lying in bed while she awoke, moving to do the tasks for the day and also figure out what the hell they were going to do. Petro was still recovering, Lockdown monitoring his condition while Brutis watched over him, and Raven had secluded himself to her training cabin, while also assisting her from time to time.

It was truly a depressing sight, and she knew damn well that the catalyst was Xur's unwillingness to move on. He still told her it was his fault, and if he had only been more aware, Mars would still be alive.

_There is no possible scenario in which we could've envisioned such a perfect shot._

And yet that didn't seem to matter to him.

The Empire was zeroing in on them…she could feel it in her gut, as well as her natural instincts. Trilla always knew when she was being followed, as it was the only way to know how to discreetly follow in return, and she also knew that if Xur wasn't back in commission, no one would be.

He'd snapped her out of her dark place, and now she had to return the favor…tipsy.

_Fuck it. Our options are quite limited._

"You are right, as always, Rava," Trilla conceded, rising to her feet and setting her glass aside. "Wish me luck."

"Don't be afraid to…_push him around_, if you will," she suggested. "He seems to respond to that kind of treatment rather passionately."

_That's putting it mildly._

"I will consider that."

Trilla beelined to her room, nodding in acknowledgment to Lockdown, whose responsibility to Petro had certainly distracted him from the tragedy, and also enough not to interact with anyone, his head always downcast to his active MAHI.

The silent scene was getting on her nerves, which was all the more reason behind her need to do this.

When she entered her room, immediately she reached for her nose as the less than appealing smell of a man had never been vented. Already her mood was sour, compounded with her intoxication, and her annoyance was already formulating how she would approach him. The bed was empty, however, sheets ruffled and unmade, but she could spot a distinct glow from the other side of the bed.

She found him sitting against the edge, a holo device in his hand as he stared distantly at a projected image. He didn't turn her way, almost as if he did not know she was standing there.

_You smell rancid._ She wanted to say but knew that was more antagonistic than necessary. Patience…something she was absolutely _terrible_ with…was going to be key here.

"Hey," was what she said, trying to at least grab his attention…to no avail. "I could use you up on the bridge…with me."

Usually dangling the prospect of being together worked, but now he seemed to be immune to all previous methods, remaining planted where he sat, eyes present in a time long passed.

"I can't do that," he rasped.

Annoyance bristled, but she stifled it again. "And why is that?"

His pause was long, unintelligent…and somewhat pathetic. "I can't."

_And there goes patience._

She stepped forward and took a knee, gracing him with her intense stare that she had become known for. "Get the fuck over it."

Xur froze, before allowing his head to turn, his expression intense as shock manifested within him. "What?"

"Those were your words were they not? On that planet in the Tion Cluster?" she reminded him. "When you lectured me on my commitment?"

The short nod he eventually gave confirmed that.

She cocked her head as she pressed the point. "Wouldn't you say that now you're being just _slightly_ hypocritical?"

The zabrak blinked…and she could sense he was still trying to process and raise his defenses from her sudden and direct assault. "Trilla, I…"

"Need to listen to me, _now_," she fiercely demanded, to which he complied, truthfully too stunned to deny her. "You're not going to tell me that after all those months of you fighting for me that one hurdle is going to bring you down. It's over and done with and sitting here isn't going to change anything."

He shook his head. "You don't get it."

"No?" she challenged. "I don't understand what it means to lose something…or _someone?_ Is that what you are implying?"

The words were fleeting from his mouth by now, and she knew she had backed him into a corner, especially easy with his reasoning severely weakened as of now. He only sighed, looking away again, and that was when her empathy took hold. When Order 66 had been enacted and Amelia was shot dead before her eyes, it was hard not to blame herself for the girl's death. She imagined Xur felt responsible for the safety of his men, and especially someone who was not accustomed to accepting defeat or failure, that sentiment would only be intensified.

Trilla grasped ahold of his limp hand with her own warm one, squeezing his bones with purpose. "Darling…I miss him too, but he's gone, and I know he'd want us to press on…to finish our mission, but we can't do that if you give up."

Xur sighed, feeling at least some resolve return within him. "It's funny…for years I had no idea what had happened to them…Raven, Lockdown…Mars…and yet, the thought of them being dead had never crossed my mind. It just didn't seem…possible."

"These are the moments that keep us in perspective…reminding us that death, the first and last enemy, always wins," she grimly continued. "Usually that makes us afraid, as it should."

Xur looked her way. "If death always wins, then why should we be afraid of it?"

"Come now, Xur," she shook her head. "You always were cross about the Jedi Code, flawed as it was, and here you are defending it. How many of those self-sacrificial Jedi actually saved anyone by letting themselves die? Couldn't they have saved many more lives if they still had that fear of death?"

"Are you telling me I should be afraid?" he almost scoffed.

"No. I'm telling you to _fight_. It's what you told me all this time, and I'm here to remind you of something," she continued, and then leaned in, letting her free hand pull him to face her directly. "You're Xur fucking Eon. Act like it."

He stared into her eyes for a long while, but eventually he groaned, letting his head droop as he wiped his eyes clean. "You're right. Sorry."

Pride swelled within her, proud of him for pulling through, and proud of herself for not getting into a straight up fistfight with him. Quickly kissing him in the forehead, she rose to her feet. "Now get in the bloody shower. You smell dreadful."

He chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

"How is he?"

Trilla felt confident in the way her conversation had gone with Xur, but she'd need to see more action to be truly convinced. Nonetheless, she tried to distract herself as best she could until he came around again.

"About as best as we can hope for," she answered Raven's question, who was standing across from her around the central holotable. The interface was not active, in fact she was currently using it as a workbench to tinker with her old helmet, trying to mess with the light hues and vocabulator. This was admittedly a first for her, since the Empire simply provided her with a new one if it ever became damaged, and she did her best to utilize her knowledge of machinery and computer systems for the task.

It wasn't going particularly well, and her growing headache wasn't helping either. Her tools kept slipping where she poked and screwed, not to mention her vision that would blur every now and then.

Her tool rattled on the metal of the holotable as she dropped it, and finally Trilla grasped her head in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort. It wasn't quite terrible…but she was certainly feeling unpleasant.

"Commander? Everything alright?" Raven asked, stepping forward to assist, only to stop as she waved her hand.

"Yes…just a bit under the weather, is all," she eased, picking her tool back up.

"Well, you took quite a hit on Kashyyyk. I don't doubt your perseverance, but you might want to take a rest. You've been up and moving constantly since then."

She shook her head. "I'll rest after we sink that Fortress to the bottom of the ocean."

Raven was hesitant to continue, merely standing still…which meant he was about to suggest something he thought may upset her, to which she wanted to hear.

Not like before…not like when she was something else.

"Raven…if you have something to say…please just say it," she insisted, trying to keep her tone welcoming, despite her current discomfort.

"Sorry, ma'am," he cleared his throat. "I was just…"

"Raven," she insisted. "Please call me Trilla."

"Right, Trilla," he corrected, attempting at least to loosen himself up. "It is best to go into missions with a clear head and rested body. Right now you don't have either of those, respectfully…and as a military man, I recommend you rest, perhaps even let Lockdown take a look at you."

She sighed, and the mounting fatigue she was suddenly feeling was resulting in slight nausea coming to a head. "Perhaps…you are right," she admitted, setting her tool down.

"I can have Lockdown-."

"No, it's…alright," she grasped his shoulder with a slight smile. "I have my own methods…thank you."

Raven nodded. "If you need anything…"

"I'll let you know," she answered, patting him gently before heading off to the cockpit, trying her best not to stumble as her condition worsened. Best she could tell, she was getting sick, but that didn't seem particularly likely. Trilla took care of herself, and unless there was a new strain going around Kashyyyk, humans were immune to most galactic illnesses by now.

Best to check in with Rava.

* * *

**Mustafar, 14 BBY**

**Castle**

Effa looked in awe at the majesty of the dark, mechanical corridor where she had been instructed to wait, at last graced with a chance to visit the nearly completed home of her lord, Darth Vader. Standing at the center of a circular platform, she gazed through the viewport beside her, granting her a view of a lava river that flowed beneath the foundation and to the horizon, its orange contrasting against the gray soot that covered the planet.

Her elation at the setting…as well as the prize in her hand, could not be put into words.

"We did it…" she giggled, wiping down the green treasure with her glove in admiration. "Time to see what secrets you shall grant us…and the beautiful children you so preciously hide."

_What is your goal?_

Effa blinked, stunned by the occurrence of a second voice in her head…just after she had medicated her mind straight.

_Ignore them…they're not there. They don't exist._

Her yellow eyes pranced around, waiting for the voice to return, but for the moment, it seemed to be gone. She smiled. Having her dissociative identity come into play now would be embarrassing in front of her host, to say the least.

_What is it you hope to achieve?_

Effa's face fell momentarily, but the sudden creak of the massive door before her snapped her into a smile. Its slow, methodical rise gave way to the signature white smoke that warmed her heart, and through that a dark shadow revealed himself. His mechanical breathing filled the room with its cold presence, his boots echoing with each step he took.

She fell to one knee…not necessary for an inquisitor, but necessary for an _apprentice_.

"Third Sister…" his voice rattled her bones, inspiring pleasure, not fear within her.

"My Lord," she dipped her head, and then presented the holocron before him. "I have succeeded. The Jedi holocron is in our possession."

Vader merely raised his hand and levitated the cube into his grip, observing it through his dark red optics. "Indeed. Very good, Inquisitor. You have proven yourself worthy to continue at my service."

"My life is yours, my Lord," she beamed.

The Dark Lord's soulless expression never left her. "Rise," he commanded, and she obeyed with haste, clasping her hands behind her back. "Describe to me the nature of this…_Jedi_."

"Cal Kestis, my Lord?" she confirmed, and the silent gaze he gave her answered her question. "He is of little concern."

"_I_ decide what is of concern," Vader pointed, his tone threatening. "Inquisitor."

Effa tipped her head in concession. "My apologies, my Lord. Kestis is tenacious, persistent and a decent saber duelist. Favors Form Three techniques but has developed somewhat of an unorthodox style to his combat strategies. He has the ability to slow objects and opponents-."

"Like Eon," Vader growled.

"Y-Yes, my Lord…like Xur Eon."

There was a long pause, and Effa knew better than to dare to interrupt Vader's thought process. All she could sense was boxed-in rage…the Dark Lord's hatred potent after the mere mention of the zabrak's name.

"You say Eon wrestled Kestis from the grasp of the Second Sister?"

Effa nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

Vader observed the holocron, and after another moment, he passed it back to her. "Then you will take the holocron back to the Fortress and wait for the Jedi to retrieve it. If what you say is true, then Eon will follow…and I will at last _deal_ with him," he turned with a flap of his cape, marching back down the path. "Personally."

Effa bowed as she accepted the holocron and watched him go. "As you wish, my Lord."

_You will find no joy at his side._

She growled, ignoring the voice in her head as she paced back to her ship.

_You know nothing…nothing at all._

* * *

**Bogano, 14 BBY**

_**Stinger Mantis**_

It was not a pleasant walk up the loading ramp for Cal or Merrin, but the Jedi especially did not want to be the one to break the news to Cere that they had failed. He wasn't sure how she would react, even if he still felt hopeful they could retrieve it.

After all, only a Jedi could unlock it…and he was the only one left.

Cere was up on her feet already, to his surprise, seemingly contemplating beside their full terrarium. She did not turn to greet them as they entered…which gave him a sinking feeling that she already knew.

"Cere…I'm sorry, but…the Empire was waiting for us," he began, hoping to draw her attention. It was hard enough having to admit it, but her lack of urgency was beginning to not only baffle him but get on his nerves. "Cere? Cere!" he stepped forward, but Merrin grasped his hand tightly, pulling him back.

"Cal…" she eased, grasping his upper arm as well. "Relax."

He couldn't…they needed to _move_. They needed to track Effa down and take back the holocron before it was lost forever, and the longer they sat around, the harder it would be to get it back.

And yet Merrin's subtle but echoing words resonated within him, and as his currently most trusted ally, her suggestions simply had greater weight…but she was more than just an ally. Merrin was beginning to feel like a piece of his life in the form of a woman, someone who progressively became harder and harder to part with each time he was forced to do so. Why their relationship had manifested so strongly was another question, but in the end, he did what she asked.

"This is all my fault," Cere finally said, turning his way. "Effa was there?"

Cal nodded. "Yeah. She was there."

He could feel her unease within the Force, her connection restoring itself more every day since she had purposely severed herself from it. However, what came with it was all of her stored anger and hatred, welling up like a pressure valve preparing to burst. She hated the Empire more than anything else, but most of all, her hatred was aimed towards one, singular man he could not identify and truthfully could not comprehend. He sensed much pain from that man…intense and unending suffering.

All Cere wished to do was exterminate him once and for all.

He couldn't let her fall down that path, not as he almost had.

"It's not your fault," Cal insisted, stepping forward until he came up beside her. "None of us could have ever guessed the Empire would be able to claim the holocron without the Astrium."

"It's not that, Cal," she corrected, pacing past him to take a seat on the fabric couch. When she leaned forward and inhaled a deep sigh, he sensed more of her past bubbling to the surface. "When I was the Empire's prisoner, the _thing_ that broke me…he was perhaps the most vivid…_horrifying_ presence I had ever experienced, but he wasn't all. There was another…_illusive_ shadow; one that observes until the perfect time to strike…and with all the time I had alone, I was able to hone in on her presence. I had felt it on Zakuul, when Eon was taken…and I feel it now…her hand in this."

Cal was baffled. "Who?"

Cere shrugged. "I don't know. She only spoke to me once, and it was only about Trilla. She wanted to know if she was still alive…and something about her ability to heal…but I didn't tell her anything. She left me after that, but I sensed something _off_ about that woman. I don't know what she's after, but she serves herself, not the Empire."

He began to put the pieces together. "You think that this woman took the Astrium we were meant to find on Zakuul…and then…?"

"Gave it to Effa," she filled in. "Why and for what purpose, I have no idea."

"You think if we find this woman, then we'll find the holocron?"

Cere snorted. "I know where Effa is taking the holocron, Cal. I also know there is no way we're getting it back on our own."

Cal said nothing, fed up with her indirect tangent, eventually prompting her to continue.

"There's a fortress," she began. "Where the inquisitors come from, where they're based out of. It's a place of torture…it's the place I escaped."

He was quick, taking a seat beside her to drag her out of the river she was currently drowning in…a river containing all her worst regrets in one place.

"I…I never thought I would actually go _back_ there."

"You won't be going alone," Cal assured, his hand gripping her shoulder in support. "You'll have a friend with you."

Her head fell downcast, and she sighed. "It's going to take more than just us, Cal, as I said."

Cal felt moderately insulted by her apparent lack of faith in him, especially after all they had been through. "Who else could possibly help us?"

"Cal, it's not…" she began. "It's not that I don't trust _you_…it's…myself," she admitted, and rose to her feet. "If we do this, we can't have anything holding us back…including me."

_What is she talking about?_

"Cere…"

"Going back to that place is a suicide mission, and bottled up, unresolved issues could be the death of us. Our focus on the mission must be paramount…absolute."

"Unwavering," Merrin chimed in from her spot. "You are saying that whatever painful past we may have suffered, we must let it go…all of us."

Cere nodded, seeming grateful that Merrin was able to simplify it. "Yes."

Cal had just reconciled with his past on Dathomir, which confused him the most. He was ready…but maybe everyone around him was not. Cere's thoughts were still drifting away towards anther figure…to the one she still felt she had failed.

"You want to get back in touch with Trilla…but why would she help us?"

Cere shrugged. "A feeling."

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Aimless Space**

"I can't place it for the life of me," Trilla admitted, sitting in her pilot's chair as her sickness only seemed to worsen. "There aren't any current pandemics on Kashyyyk, right?"

Rava shook her domed head from the port. "As far as the Holonet is concerned, there is not. You should allow me to scan your vitals, Trilla."

She was never much fond of that, but she was more desperate for an answer the longer her sickness persisted. "Very well."

It only took a moment as the red hued holographic interface blurred her vision, the glare intensifying her headache as the lights rocketed into her pupils. Rava ceased the scan and projected the results before her, displaying hotspots of ailment. "This is mostly your skeletal damage from that blast you suffered, but it appears the bacta is working fine, and we know you do not suffer from an allergic reaction to the fluid, so it cannot be that."

"That is a thing?" Trilla asked, curious.

"For some species, bacta is _fatal_, mostly arthropoids. It actually melts their insides instead of repairing them," Rava revealed, which was certainly news to Trilla.

"Isn't that interesting," she remarked. "Anything else?"

"Aside from your injuries, you are not suffering from any infections…merely a misallocation of bodily resources to certain parts of your systems, thus is why you feel…what is the term…_out of whack_."

"But what would cause that?" Trilla furrowed her brow.

Rava paused. "In humans, usually pregnancy, but I can't imagine you would be suffering from such an ailment."

Trilla froze, propping herself up. "Come again?"

"I said a misallocation of bodily resources is an adjustment period when a human female becomes pregnant, but you…" Rava trailed off, and Trilla felt as if she was hanging off the edge of a perilous cliff, waiting for her to complete her thought. "…why, this can't be right."

"What? Rava, what can't be right?" she frantically demanded a straight answer.

"Calm yourself, Trilla. It was merely a faulty scan. Allow me to retry," she suggested, and before Trilla could protest, she shielded her eyes again as Rava initiated another scan.

Another agonizing wait followed as Rava processed the data.

Then…the VI slowly turned her head. "Did you fail to administer your contraceptive?"

_By the fucking Force…_

Trilla's eyes surreptitiously paced away. "Perhaps."

"_Perhaps?!_" Rava spat, so to speak. "Do you have any idea what you have done?! You are foolhardy, reckless and _irresponsible!_"

Trilla raised her hands and shushed the VI loudly. "Shut your hole! Keep it down!"

"Trilla?" she heard Raven. "Everything alright in there?"

She cleared her throat. "Y-Yes, yes, Captain! Everything is fine!"

"If you say so, ma'am."

Despite Rava's obvious distress, she did keep her vocabulator volume low. "Trilla, you cannot support a child…not with our current state of affairs! How could you possibly do something so…so _stupid?_"

Trilla almost took offense to her accusatory tone, but she understood where the VI was coming from…but that viewpoint hardly mattered to her. It was worth every risk…and despite all she had suffered, the Force had at last gifted her for her perseverance.

She couldn't believe it…she was _pregnant_.

"I'm going to assume that the joyful look on your face means you do not care about the potential risk…which I guess is admirable," Rava admitted. "Although I cannot possibly comprehend this joy you are feeling, being a virtual construction."

She was going to be a _mother_.

In a gleeful bout, she wrapped her arms around the VI and emitted a high-pitched trill of elation, to which Rava sighed. "And you're hugging me…alright."

Trilla was happier than she had ever been in her life, and she could not explain why. It just…was. "Thank you, Rava. You have no idea what this means to me."

Rava shook her head. "I really don't. Now, should we tell the father?"

Her first instinct was to rise from her chair and run to her room, tell Xur he would be a father and then make love in the purest of ways…but the reality hit her. Xur had no idea she had elected not to take the contraceptive, and the reaction Rava had to the news would likely be his own. With all they were facing…the last thing he needed was another life-altering shock to his system.

Ultimately, they still needed to survive their mission in the first place.

"No," she shook her head. "I'll tell him when the time is right."

"Trilla…" Rava warned.

"I know, I know," she acknowledged, letting her hand glide over the VI's chassis. "I just don't want to complicate things further."

"In my opinion, you've already passed the point of no return…and he will discover it sooner rather than later."

_All true._

Nonetheless, she shook her head. "Promise me you won't tell him."

Rava's head turned downcast, and she sighed. "I won't tell him."

She smiled. "Thank you, Rava."

Still, she wanted to celebrate regardless…in a more obscure way. Leaving Rava and the cockpit behind, she headed back to her room and made sure to shut the door behind her…just in case. She was feeling rather lascivious with this new news…for whatever reason…and planning ahead was her specialty. Rava may disagree with that ladder claim, but concern was her function anyhow.

When she saw the bathroom door was still shut, she sneered and forced it open with a wave of her hand, marching into the misty haze of water vapor.

"The f-…oh," Xur paused, concealing himself with his current towel. "Uh…hi?"

She smiled, walking towards the sink and mirror, removing her gloves and gauntlets. "Hey. Enjoy your wash-up?"

The zabrak scratched his head in mild confusion, his hair still dripping. "Yeah…"

Trilla snorted as she ripped off her boots, throwing them aside, and then subsequently pulled her top suit off. "Good. Smell better?"

Xur actually sniffed his arm and shrugged. "Yeah, smell pretty good, actually."

"Do you now?" she questioned, and then removed her pants, leaving just her undergarments. "I don't believe you."

In a rush of lust, she pressed him back into the shower and tossed his towel away, kissing him passionately as she switched on the water, letting the searing liquid cascade off their skin. Once she granted him a reprieve, he gasped.

"What's this about?" he chuckled.

She smiled brightly as her hair began to soak. "I just wanted you to know how much I love you."

Xur smiled back. "Well, consider me convinced."

* * *

**Bogano, 14 BBY**

_**Stinger Mantis**_

"Cal, can we talk?"

The red-haired Jedi was not expecting visitors while Cere reached out to Trilla but seeing Merrin was a welcome surprise. The time was passing slow anyhow, and he admittedly was unsure what to do while he waited. There was only so much he could do with his mind still hanging over the loss of the holocron.

So Merrin ran in to him merely tinkering with his saber hilt while BD remained hooked into recharge.

"Hey," Cal turned, twisting his saber back into one piece. "Sure. What's up?"

Merrin looked _and_ felt nervous, clasping her hands together as her fingers fidgeted in her grasp, unsure as how to present herself. "I was…thinking about what we had talked about earlier," she began. "Unresolved issues being the death of us."

Cal narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

The nightsister gave him a look that pleaded for help, and then eventually sighed. "Let's stop…_beating around the bush_…as I heard once."

_Beating around the bush? She doesn't mean…oh no._

"Look, Cal…I may not be completely aware of…social constructs and such…but I'm not stupid. I've noticed the way you act around me, and only after seeing Xur and Trilla did a lot of it begin to make sense."

Cal's fight or flight reflex kicked in as his armpits began to sweat, his trembling manifest into a slight shiver. Anxiety and anticipation were a terrible combination, and he did his best to push them both down.

"Such as now," she pointed out.

_Come on Cal, remember what he said!_

But none of what Xur had told him felt natural. Forcing himself to adopt a persona that was not his own felt like more of a hindrance than anything else. The fact of the matter was, he wasn't confident, and he didn't feel like much of a teaser or jokester. Trying to be one only seemed to hold him back, and perhaps he should instead do the unthinkable.

Be himself.

He shook his head. "I know, and I'm sorry Merrin. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"So…you do?" Merrin asked, stepping forward.

Cal's eyes paced away. "I do what?"

She flushed red, pulling her hair out of her face. "You…_like_ me?"

"Yeah," he almost blurted, subtly nodding. "Yeah, I like you."

Merrin deadpanned, placing one hand on her hip. "That's not what I mean."

_Well, what else would you…oh…_

Now the panic set in. His cheeks flushed an intense red, and he felt his blood circulate at an alarming pace, before running his fingers through his hair. "Uh…w-well."

Then Merrin smiled, stepping forward and grabbing his hand. "Relax, Jedi. You need say nothing more."

His panic dissipated in a sudden turn. "I don't?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "I've already seen enough."

_She _is_ pretty when she laughs._

It was like a moment of clarity as everything fell into place. Discomfort gave way to security and assuredness, and his heart continued to pound, but he let it. Standing to his true height, he smiled, grasping the side of her neck and letting his thumb rub her cheek. In a quick move, Merrin pressed forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, and their lips interlocked with ease. It was incredible…the taste of her was powerful…indescribable.

Even if neither of them knew what to do. They did what came naturally, and Cal thought about nothing else but her in his arms, and how much joy she had brought to the tragedy that had been his life.

When they pulled away, he gasped. "What was that?" he asked.

Merrin giggled and eventually laughed fully, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "You're adorable, you know that?"

He blushed. "Thanks…you're…adorable too."

She popped her brow. "I'd hope so."

They kissed again, and this time Cal didn't let his stupid mouth ruin it.

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Aimless Space**

Xur found the scent of Trilla's clean hair incredibly pleasing as he held her in his arms, allowing her to trace shapes over the center of his chest as she snuggled in. He had no clue as to why she had suddenly become so clingy to him, especially after their fierce conversation in which she whipped him back on his feet. Personally, he did not mind the extra attention, as his emotional state preferred her soothing presence in close proximity.

They had decided to keep this session less erotic this go around, as the noises they would make would certainly not be acceptable with the company they kept on the ship. Strangely enough, they both found solace in lying together in her bed, just…talking, as well as occasional pauses where they would simply bathe in the presence of each other.

It was a calm distraction for what was ahead.

"Do you know what I love most about you?" Trilla asked.

Xur pulled her closer, letting the feel of his working muscle structure warm her heart. "What?"

She smiled, still feeling his chest with her nimble fingers. "You don't care…as in, you don't give a damn about the odds. You just…do."

He shrugged. "I'm not going to pretend that the prize on the other side doesn't have anything to do with it."

Trilla didn't laugh at his joke, continuing her aimless stare as she maintained her contact with him. "Those insurgent fighters on Kashyyyk…you didn't know any of them particularly well, and you knew they didn't stand a chance, and yet you fought for them anyway," she listed. "You disguised yourself, hoping to deceive an army of deceivers when you infiltrated the Inquisitorious, knowing damn well you probably wouldn't make it out…and yet you did it anyway. You…saw what I was…" she slowed, her tone following a path with more regret. "…what I did…and you stayed anyway. No matter how many terrible things I did, you were there for me…_always_."

The zabrak buried his nose into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I told you. I'd do it all again, just as I had done it."

"I know you would," she acknowledged, letting her hand glide over his body, feeling his every mountain and valley. "Which is why I don't want us ever to be apart. I…I love you more than you could possibly imagine."

"I know you do," Xur exhaled heavily as he pulled his nose away. "But you've pulled me out of some rough spots too, you know. Mars dying…I never expected it to hit me so hard. I know soldiers die, but…he was more than just a soldier…he was…"

"Family," Trilla finished, letting her eyes look up to him. He sensed a large amount of elation within her when she mentioned that word, but he wrote it off with her odd and sudden desire to make love to him on a whim. "They are the most difficult to let go."

He sighed. "Yeah…"

Her expression became sympathetic, and her real hand brushed his cheek before she softly kissed him, and already he was feeling better. "But I'm not going anywhere," she assured.

Xur smirked. "You never did the running, did you?"

She shook her head. "You should consider that should you ever get any…_unfortunate_ ideas."

The zabrak scoffed. "Oh, believe me. I know who comes out should I ever get out of line…even if she never caught me."

Trilla narrowed her eyes. "She came close."

"If she considers herself on her knees and disarmed _close_, then she should consider entering another profession."

"I remember her _killing _you."

"I also remember saving her ass over and over again, even just before she killed me."

"Hm…I guess she did take for granted your heroic moments…even if you were always a cunt about it."

"I think the _cunt_ part was well warranted. I mean…she was a mean bitch, if you know what I mean. Had to keep the scale even."

Trilla groaned. "_Ugh._ She hated that."

"I know she did. I also know she tried to kill me so many times it was almost hilarious, like that one time she tried to seduce me, only to be constantly rejected until she was so angry she took it out on a poor little teenaged Jedi fugitive."

She snorted. "That is not even remotely accurate."

He cleared his throat, mimicking her tone and accent. "Every eye you lie upon me is filled with purpose…ambition."

Trilla deadpanned. "You wanted to spread her open, just admit it."

Xur tried to keep a straight face. "Uh…well…this is a trap isn't it?"

Her devious smile returned, and he felt chills roll down his spine, until her fingers resting on his hip bone squeezed, and he jerked. "Gah! Trilla…stop it!" he protested, only to see her giggle almost hysterically.

"You should have never let me discover this hidden truth about you…" she sneered. "Imagine what would become of you…should it leave this room?"

Xur scoffed. "You are the most…" he squeezed her tightly. "…unforgiving, gorgeous, manipulative and pleasing woman I've ever met."

She laughed. "I love you too."

Reaching out, he pulled her shifted hair out of her eyes. "Now, since we're in the mood, I'd say we should-," he was stopped by a distinct frequency coming in on her wrist comm. She almost ignored it, pressing up against him to continue their motion, but the spaces between the chimes widened her eyes in recognition. Xur protested as she pulled herself away, "No, no that can wait…"

Trilla gently pushed him back with her metal arm as she stared at the device on her left wrist, and then scoffed. "I think…I think Cere just hijacked my comm."

Xur desperately tried to hold in his laugh, but it came bursting out, only to be met with a punch in the shoulder.

"Fuck off," she silenced him, out of the joking mood. Hesitantly, she tapped the central button and listened in. "Who is this?"

"_Trilla…it's me…Cere,_" her former master answered, and Xur sensed a distinct rise in animosity. Trilla could say all she wanted that she was reformed, but it was strikingly obvious that she and Cere were not healed as of yet. Xur reached out and grasped her free hand in support, and she sighed.

"What do you want, Cere?" she asked, her tone somewhat bitter.

Cere paused for a moment, and Xur could tell this wasn't a "catch-up" call. "_The holocron…Effa has it._"

Trilla was almost stunned, frozen in place until she could muster the words. "How could she possibly wrestle it from your grasp?"

"_She was waiting…Cal said she used your notes to find it._"

Xur cocked his head and whispered. "You took notes?"

"I took notes on _everyone_," she answered, before returning her attention to her comm. "Tell me you have a plan for getting it back."

"_Yes…it's a longshot…but with your help…_"

Trilla scowled, but Xur squeezed her hand for her attention, and when she looked his way, he slightly nodded his head.

There was only one place Effa would ever take the holocron.

She sighed. "We're listening."

"_Thank you, Trilla. Is there a place we can meet?_"

Trilla didn't seem to have any good answers, so Xur stooped in to assist. "Cere…meet us on Ziost. I'll send you the coordinates."

"_Ziost…if you say so. We'll be there…and thank you._"

The communication died after that, and Trilla sighed. "I _really_ hope you know what you're doing."

"I do," he assured, clasping her hand into both his own. "I promise."

* * *

**Aftermath chapter, so nothing but feels. Sorry if you wanted some action, but uh, trust me, you'll be sated here soon enough. I probably only need one more to set up the finale, but to be honest, I'm not going to know until I'm a good way through the next chapter.**

**If you have any suggestions, say them now or forever hold your peace, lol.**

**Stay healthy and stay safe. Thanks for reading!**

**Side Note: If any of you are interested, I am currently taking part in a Jedi: Fallen Order roleplay in the Star Wars Games Forums "Trust Only In the Force". If you'd like to join, we would be happy to accept new members.**


	32. Darkest Before Dawn

**CHAPTER 27**

Darkest Before Dawn

"It is not 'forgive and forget' as if nothing wrong had ever happened, but 'forgive and go forward,' building on the mistakes of the past and the energy generated by reconciliation to create a new future."

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Orbiting Kashyyyk**

Vorchenko spent a long while letting her eyes pace over the lush planet of Kashyyyk, its glory sullied by the venomous fangs of the Galactic Empire. She remembered executing a Republic relief mission just before the Clone War broke out…a time where she was merely a bright spark in the eyes of marine command. Things were so simple then…logistics with distribution, planning for efficient forest routes, ways to get the sick off planet.

Nothing about subverting an entire totalitarian regime…one cannot simply shoot the enemy aiming at them to achieve victory, as the enemy has hundreds, if not thousands of men waiting to take their place…and they cared little about their fate.

She merely needed to do her final part…and the retribution would begin. Years of planning, years of deception…years of searching for the outlet for her revenge against the Empire that had exterminated the Jedi and robbed the galaxy of its freedom. She'd promoted the agenda of Xur Eon, her closest ally for many years, and now she just needed to set him loose…and wreak the havoc the galaxy needed to suffer.

The smoldering ruin that used to be the imperial refinery at the base of the Origin Tree was only the beginning.

"Admiral…"

Vorchenko turned her attention away from the viewport, laying her eyes on Agent Markov, a light-brown skinned female human with striking gold-brown eyes whose jet-black hair ended at the base of her jaw. One of her preferred contacts of the Imperial Security Bureau, Elena Markov was efficient, intelligent and an incredible shot.

And had been tracking the movements of Xur Eon for many years.

"Ah, yes," the Admiral acknowledged. "Apologies, Agent. I trust your excursion went to plan?"

Markov did not look so elated, which was all part of the plan. "After a thorough search, all we discovered was the pack of insurgents fled into the shadowlands, and we are pursuing them as we speak…but any trace of Xur Eon has been erased."

Vorchenko grumbled with disappointment. "As usual. He always covers his tracks."

She frowned. "I'm not as convinced, and neither is Admiral Slovis. He believes there is a mole in the high brass."

Not the first time she'd heard that theory, and Slovis was not the first slime to attempt to undermine her, whether she was a suspected traitor or not. Tarkin's protégé? They would never suspect it, and even on the off chance they had, they'd have to convince Tarkin himself of the deception.

Which was nigh impossible. The man stood by his students, and took pride in the ones who succeeded, and she was his best. She did not hate him, but she hated the Empire he had helped create.

"A mole? Agent, this is a theory that has been pressed forward and debunked. I suggest you look elsewhere," Vorchenko answered.

Markov tried to hide her displeasure, maintaining her professionalism. "You are the one with the theories, Admiral. What is yours?"

Vorchenko had her proxy theories, usually lacing the truth with enough lies to make it feasible, but not enough to actually work. This time, however, with the current situation, and this piece of information already known by those who matter, she could grant Markov her mole and stick the hunt elsewhere.

But it would expose Trilla Suduri…someone she had taken a fond liking to…

Yet, no one knew who that was. All the Empire ever saw was the mask of the Second Sister and her black attire, and Trilla Suduri was just another Jedi who died during Order 66. Ironically, the Second Sister could still serve them well, even in her death.

"I believe the Second Sister has gone rogue and has been feeding him information until she finally cut all ties with the Inquisitorious," Vorchenko revealed.

"Impossible," Markov spat. "That Inquisitor _hated_ him more than any other officer I had ever worked with. Why would she betray the Empire for him?"

"They became romantically invested after he subverted the Inquisitorious," she revealed, _also_ a little-known fact.

Markov sighed. "You mean to suggest that the unidentified female Jedi who assisted the insurgents is the former _Second Sister?_"

"I do not suggest, I _inform_, Agent," Vorchenko corrected. "I also have reason to believe men of her former squad are involved as well."

The Agent jerked her head backwards. "What you are suggesting is a complete betrayal of everyone she was associated with…which is not in alignment with her personality."

"No…but more and more often we are surprised by the tenacity of our enemies. To believe such a massive deception impossible is only doing yourself a disservice," Vorchenko explained…and hoped it would be enough.

Markov sighed. "I don't know why I even asked. None of it matters. I must leave at once."

Vorchenko huffed at that. "You're being reassigned?" she figured. "I specifically requested that your services remain here."

"Colonel Yularen is concerned with our resources, so he had decided to relocate some longstanding agents," Markov revealed. "Myself included."

She grimaced, knowing she'd be a waste in anyone's hands other than hers…but perhaps it was for the best. "Unfortunate."

"I have my orders, Admiral," Markov shrugged, offering her hand, to which the Admiral shook. "I wish you good luck."

"Likewise, Agent Markov," she pulled her hand away, and the Agent turned on her heel and exited the bridge, leaving Vorchenko short one valuable asset.

"Admiral," her deck officer called from below, and she turned her head. "We have Admiral Slovis' known trajectory."

She tipped her head. "Very good. Prepare to initiate pursuit."

It was time to kick the slob in the gut…and never grant him a chance to rise.

* * *

**Ziost, 14 BBY**

**Rocklands**

Cal paced through the spiked rocks and jagged edges of the small valley, his senses outwards and eyes forward. He was hunting, which was unusual for him, as normally he would be the one doing the hiding. With his hilt in hand, he stopped, stretching his senses all through the landscape, searching for the danger he expected to come, his thumb trembling on the ignition.

None came.

Taking a deep breath, he continued onwards, moving to search elsewhere for the prowler he was certain he'd find.

Danger sense darted his eyes upward, and the battle roar he heard echo through the valley prompted him to step back and dodge the crimson blade that collided into the ground. Igniting his own violet, he blocked his assailant's cross swing, before moving to deflect their next, but they put much more power behind it than he expected, and the impact rattled his guard. The Force rippled and kicked, feeling himself shoved backward and on to the rocky floor, before executing a somersault that planted him back on his feet.

Looking up, who he had known as the Second Sister smirked back at him, twirling her crimson circle hilt and holding it in her ready stance, while he switched his own hilt back into the on position. Charging forward, Cal initiated his first attack string, each crosscut, and slice deflected with ease before the turn came to the Second Sister, who put fierce strength behind each of her hits as his wrists protested the effort. Staggering backwards, Cal backpedaled and deflected her next advancing move before the two of them fell into a saber lock, the strength required to hold her at bay immense.

Eventually she won out, and after pushing off his blade, she grasped his head with her prosthetic hand and winded up a powerful kick that stopped just before it collided into his cranium.

"You're overpowered too easily," Trilla remarked, pulling her leg down and releasing him. "You don't use the Force to enhance your strength."

Cal bitterly ran his fingers through his hair. "Whatever. Let's just go again."

"Disregard me at your own peril, Padawan," Trilla warned, her tone sounding surprisingly genuine, despite the condescending use of the pet name she had stuck to him. "If you do not adapt to overwhelming force, you will lose _every_ time."

There was truth to her words, but he'd never admit it. "Since when could you hit so hard anyway?"

"Since my forearm was removed from my body," she displayed, letting him hear the servos move with the movement of her fingers. "I'm sure you remember."

He did, and she certainly deserved it after all she had done to him since Bracca. As far as he was concerned, the two of them were _not_ friends…simply allies united by a common enemy…despite the premonition he had experienced on Bogano. Even if he would like to simply forget it all and put aside their differences, his distrust in her was still too potent to look past it.

And he still had heard no apology.

Cal sighed and repeated. "Let's just go again."

Trilla seemed content with that…since it was just an excuse for her to be able to beat on him further, although in honesty, he sensed no desire within her from this, just the necessity of a mentor.

As if she was _really_ here to teach him something.

Trilla moved quickly, this time utilizing her speed and agility to test his defenses, something he had seen from her before. Using his improved defensive bladework, Cal batted away her final strike and split his saber, using both violet blades to engage violently and ferociously…an attack that widened her eyes quickly. The shock from his attack bore into her as she stumbled, giving him a chance to step forward and plant his boot into her stomach, knocking her to the ground.

Then she _growled_.

A dark closing sound echoed in the Force, and Cal felt his throat shut and his legs lifted from the rocky surface as Trilla rose to her feet with her hand outstretched…her eyes _livid_.

This was _not_ training. Why she had suddenly lost control was beside the point…now he needed to protect himself. Pooling his energy into the center of his chest, Cal cocooned his body until unleashing the stored power, freeing him from her grip with a repulse and making her stagger.

Trilla roared and swung at his head, barely ducking in time before reaching out his hand, utilizing a concentrated Force Stasis to stop her blade before it ended his life. The strain from his excessive use of Force energy was depleting his strength, and the look on her face depicted that of a rabid woman in a primal state.

But there was no murder intent present…just _protection_.

Then it occurred to him…_how_ he had kicked her, and most importantly…_where_. His vision flashed back in that moment, the image of an armored Trilla holding a child in her arms, and the caring tone of her voice that he had never heard before.

Was that _already_ a reality?

"Trilla!" he called out, his teeth grit as her crimson blade shuddered in the stasis hold that was rapidly deteriorating. "Trilla, stop! I'm sorry!"

Her eyes flashed, and for a moment she looked as if she was going to go through with her motion and kill him, but she blinked and relinquished her attack, deactivating her blade in a stunned manner. "I…what…" she dropped her hilt, stammering intensely. "This…this was a bad idea."

Cal wasn't sure what to say…as he only _somewhat_ felt sorry for her and should truthfully be upset that she had predictably lost her temper. "Maybe…"

Trilla paced away to the rock face, pinching the bridge of her nose in distress as her free hand rubbed her stomach…and he heard her whisper something to herself.

It was bothering him too much…time to come clean.

"On Bogano," he simply began, not quite drawing her attention. "I had a premonition. The Force showed me…things."

Trilla huffed. "If you have questions regarding your ailments with the Force, go speak to Cere, not me. I do not have the desire to help you through such trivial things."

Cal stifled his annoyance. "This one was about you, Trilla."

_Now_ he had her attention, if only a part of it. "Why would the Force bother to show you something regarding my fate?" she turned, and a bitter realization turned her expression sour. "If we're connected, I swear…"

"Trust me, I don't want to be connected to your fate either," Cal insisted, and didn't trust her enough to reveal everything he'd seen anyhow. "But what I saw there now makes a hell of a lot more sense after what just happened with you."

"Oh?" Trilla cocked her head, stepping forward in a challenging stance as her arms crossed. "And what's that?"

_Just say it. Rub it in her face._

Cal shored himself up. "You're pregnant…aren't you?"

Trilla's face fell, which was all he needed to know…and to finally one-up her was incredibly satisfying.

But the Jedi in him was happy for her…_he_ was naturally happy for her, because that was who he was. He wasn't bitter…he wasn't petty. He didn't care why Trilla had done what she'd done after the Empire had tormented her for so long…he only needed proof. Cal needed to see that she'd changed, or at least be given the hope that she could be, and _that_ gave him more hope than he could imagine.

"I'm happy for you…Trilla," Cal admitted, which felt much better than he expected.

The trembling of her chin faded, and through her emerald eyes he spotted distinct gratitude, held back by her natural pettiness and untrusting nature, deciphering all the reasons why Cal would attempt to lower her guard and steal a part of her away. She just stared his way for a long while, unsure how to react, until she grimaced slightly and looked away, embarrassment taking over.

She sighed. "Thank you…_Cal_."

_Did fucking Hell just freeze over?_

Cal cocked his head. "Did you just call me by my name?"

Trilla gave him an admonishing look. "Don't make me take it back."

"Right…sorry-,"

"And you'd _better_ not tell him," she stepped forward, imploring her sincerity. "Or I swear…when I'm done with you, you will _wish_ I had succeeded in your capture before."

_And we're back to normal._

He knew better to indulge her this time around. "Of course. If that's what you want…I'll keep it to myself."

She was desperately searching for a reason to stay cross with him, but her displeasure faded with time, and eventually she adopted that same, sad expression he'd seen when Merrin released her on Ordo Eris.

Trilla had suffered far worse than he ever had. She killed Prauf, sure, but she had quite literally lost everything…her friends, her master…

Even the man she loved.

For all the pain that she'd been through, he could at least swallow his pride and forgive her for all she had done, and perhaps that could give her the healing she desperately needed.

"Why would you do that for me…after all I've done to you?" she asked.

Cal reached out tentatively as if attempting to pet a snarling krayt dragon, and rested his hand on her shoulder, to which she allowed albeit with a cocked head.

"It's the right thing to do."

Trilla had no idea what to do with that, and in time she merely sighed. "I remember a time where I once thought like that."

He leaned in, patting her shoulder. "That time isn't gone forever, Trilla."

Cal could feel himself getting through to her, and he even detected…_emotion_…and not the malicious kind, but gratitude…relief…_serenity_. In his mind's eye, Cal had just seen the Second Sister die her final death. She'd reconciled with her love, with her master, and now with all the Jedi she had hunted, tormented and killed over her time.

Trilla Suduri was resurrected before his eyes.

"Cal…you're…you're going to make me cry," she wiped her eye, and he chuckled with joy. "You'd better not tell him about this either."

He pulled his hand away. "Why not?"

"Why not?" she echoed. "Kestis, I've had enough of Xur Eon telling me _I told you so_."

"Your secrets are safe with me," he promised.

Trilla looked as if the weight of the world had been pulled from her shoulders, and in a sudden move, she pulled Cal in for a hug, to which he slowly knew to accept this time around. "I am truly sorry, about everything. There is nothing I can do to make up for killing your friend…"

"It's alright," Cal assured. "I'm sure Prauf doesn't regret a thing."

Green energy appeared beside them, and Cal's eyes widened as the recognizable sound registered in his consciousness and he ripped himself out of Trilla's grasp, as did she. Merrin stood with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Cal stammered. "I wasn't-,"

"We were just-," Trilla tried to explain as well.

"We weren't hugging like _that_-,"

"I could never _imagine_ myself ever-,"

"Totally plutonic…no sexual things going on…"

"…wanting to _ever_ be with this…child-,"

Merrin burst into laughter, which silenced them both into deadpan expressions as the nightsister giggled hysterically, and the embarrassment only compounded exponentially. Arms were wrapped around the both of their necks as Xur joined in between them, his own laughter apparent…while Trilla's eyes widened intensely.

"Wow, that was gorgeous," Xur laughed, and judging by his joking mood…he must not have heard _everything_. "Are you two going to make out next?"

Trilla grumbled and grit her teeth. "You _cunt_. I fucking hate you."

"For once, we agree," Cal seconded.

Merrin wiped her eyes clear of her tears. "Who would have thought we would run into this? Part of me was prepared to save you again, Cal."

Trilla cleared her throat. "So you didn't hear what we talked about?"

Xur shook his head. "Nah. We just wanted to check up on you. At first, I was like…oh shit, my girl is cheating on me, but then I realized how much you hate this little ginger Padawan."

"I told him that you were becoming more forgiving, Cal," Merrin admitted. "You should count yourself lucky. He was talking of strangling you, and I would have let him."

Cal scoffed. "Thanks."

Trilla freed herself from his grip. "You honestly believed I was cheating on you?"

Xur's laugh evaporated, leaving just an awkward look on his face as he pushed Cal away. "Well…no."

"Ah, good," Trilla cocked her head with folded arms, slowly walking his way. "I would hate to have to revisit your debacle with one Ahsoka Tano."

The zabrak grimaced. "Ah, low blow."

Everyone laughed at that. They needed it…for it was all downhill from here, and they knew it.

* * *

The _Stinger Mantis _and the _Fury_ were assembled not far from each other in a large enough plateau to support the size of both ships before it dropped off into the valley. The desolation of Ziost was peaceful, despite the whispers that Xur couldn't shake, but the vibrant presence of his companions did plenty to drown it all out.

As much as it _was_ slightly awkward to see Cal hugging his girlfriend, he was glad the two of them were able to put their past behind them. It was perhaps one of the last bitter parts remaining within Trilla's heart, and with it gone…the presence she now emitted felt more familiar than ever. The warmth he felt with her hand locked in his was strong, fierce…the same one he could remember when they first laid eyes on each other.

But there was something else…something within her that was enhancing her presence…something that certainly was not there before.

It was actively changing her for the better, but he could not place what it was. Partly it resembled a second beating heart, or at least the remnants of one, and it was actively purging the darkness within her, softening the pain as time passed.

He was glad it was there…but he felt the need to ask her what it was, perhaps once again when they were alone.

Aside from that, he couldn't help but notice that Cal and Merrin had their hands locked together, and he had done his best to hold back on any immature comments that would simply make him look like an asshole. Besides, he much preferred that people left him alone about his attachment to Trilla, so returning the favor felt like a solid step to avoid that.

Xur was proud of them anyway.

The scene when they arrived was a little less festive; Lockdown and Raven speaking together while Cere stood with Greez as he admired his own ship. Upon sight of Cal, BD-1 scuttled from Greez to his companion, clambering up his leg while Merrin laughed at the scene.

"Happy to see you too, buddy!" Cal smiled, lifting him up the rest of the way. Cere cautiously followed, her arms crossed uncomfortably while everyone else assembled around them, somewhat eager for the change of scenery.

"How'd it go?" Cere asked, more towards Cal.

It was somewhat of an awkward moment, as neither he nor Trilla seemed to want to revisit what had happened, and the embarrassment was certainly present on Cal's face, and Xur felt Trilla creep closer to him in almost a hiding manner.

But Cal simply nodded with a small smile. "It went well. I feel like we both got a little better."

Cere only looked to Trilla for a moment before letting her eyes fall downcast. "That's…good…for the both of you."

Trilla's unease increased as the awkwardness settled in, and Xur grew tired of it. "Hey, let's set up a fire," he suggested, as the evening began to darken the landscape. "I'm sure we could all use a little socializing before we get ready tomorrow. There's a lot on the line…and we'll need to be at our best if we're to overcome it."

Greez nodded to that. "That sounds great…even if some of you tried to kill me once or twice…but I've got a few things that can cozy up this creepy place for the night."

"Commander…" Raven asked, his fists balled up with anticipation. "Lockdown and I…well…we were thinking because you have so much in your cabinet…"

Trilla chuckled. "Have at it, trigger men."

While they scurried off in gratitude, already going over what they'd try, everyone split off to assist with the set-up effort, but Xur stayed put with a tentative Trilla, whose mind was elsewhere. After a momentary wait, she shifted behind him and planted a kiss on the nape of his neck.

"There's something I need to do," she said, gliding her hand along his back as she paced towards Cere. "Go have fun. I'll join you in a moment."

He tipped his head. "See you then, hun."

Watching her go, he spotted her gently come behind Cere, her expression inviting, kind and loving…three words that hadn't been associated with Trilla to anyone other than him in many…_many_ years. She had changed so much in such a short time, and he remained adamant that it had nothing to do with her alignment to the Force.

To truly redeem someone took more than just a redefining moment…it took work. Without any true commitment to get better, to really _heal_, it would only be momentary, and soon enough they would be back to their old, terrible ways. Trilla certainly had her moments, and truthfully it was only recently that he'd seen her really change. There were still remnants of that harsh, unforgiving part of herself, but they came when they were _necessary_, instead of wearing themselves upon her every waking moment.

And he certainly didn't mind a little Second Sister when it was handy. Trilla had never been soft anyhow, always a little sterner than most of her Padawan counterparts, and yet still maintaining a caring and compassionate personality, which was why she had spent so much time around younglings.

Trilla would probably be a brilliant mother.

_Children? No! How could you even consider such a thing?!_

The notion almost terrified him. He couldn't imagine having a child…especially not now, with so much work to do. If word ever got out that they shared a child…the Empire would not rest until they got their filthy hands on it.

Xur could only imagine how many imperials would die the day that happened, but he knew better. A child was a liability, and he could not afford something like that now.

_Don't even think about it. It's not happening._

He nodded with finality, since he was meaning to check on Petro anyway.

* * *

Petro held still as he sat on the medical bed, the holographic interface running over his face as Rava initiated her scan. He had difficulty avoiding the urge to scratch his newly healed skin on his legs. The aches were gone at least, which was thanks to the painkillers he had been popping like pieces of candy since the bacta injections stopped. Other than that, he almost felt good as new…and truthfully, he still regretted nothing.

Even if Brutis had criticized him heavily for jumping in front of an AT-ST blast to save Trilla.

It felt like reconciliation for the powerlessness he had felt the day she had told him to run on Kamparas. With all he had learned, and all he had grown, faced with a chance to actually change her fate for the better was an instinctual reaction that felt natural. There was no consideration behind it…just action, and with all she had suffered to save him from the grasp of the Empire, his debt was repaid.

Rava completed her scan and lowered the above crane mechanism. "Your vitals are strong, and your tissue has been completely repaired. If you have any continued ailments, I suggest painkillers to eliminate it. Other than that, you can move about at your own discretion."

Petro suppressed an immature cheer to that, as Brutis was still standing at the corner of the room. "…thanks Rava," he scratched his head, truthfully eager to get going and contribute again.

"Of course," the little VI bowed her head. "The others are initiating festivities to contemplate the insurmountable odds of the coming mission. As for your morale, I recommend that you join them."

Brutis grumbled in his brooding corner. "Think I'll pass."

"Come on now," Xur interjected, revealing himself. "Don't be like that."

When Petro saw Xur for the first time on Destral, it had been since Ossus before that, and before that on Ilum for the Gathering. He'd always heard stories about the zabrak, and he had only become more impressed with him after he had helped them get out of the close call with the pirate raid and subsequent avoidance of General Grievous. Petro could remember how badly he wished to be like him…winning countless battles…saving the _girl_.

It was only then that he realized Xur had saved Ahsoka that day, and they were certainly close…and yet he was sharing a serious relationship with Trilla instead. Petro had never noticed a connection between the zabrak and Trilla before, but that was perhaps due to his age at the time. Now, it was so obvious he had to be devoid of all sense not to see it.

Slight jealousy sparked within him. All that time trying to work the Padawan nine years his senior, just to watch his hero scoop her up right from his grasp…and Trilla had only grown more attractive since.

He grimaced. His chances of ever initiating a relationship between he and her were basically zero…Xur or not.

Brutis had ignored Xur's prod, so the zabrak turned his attention to him. "Hey kid. Doing alright?"

Petro nodded, clearing his throat awkwardly when there really was no need to. "Yeah. Rava says I'm good to go."

Xur patted his shoulder. "That's great. You should come out. I'm sure people will be happy to see you. Maybe we can even…" he lowered his voice surreptitiously. "…slip you a drink."

"Is there any whiskey?" Brutis suddenly asked, his intrigue piqued.

Xur scoffed. "You do know whose ship you're on, right?"

The seasoned combatant grumbled, lifting himself from his slouched position. "Fine. Come on, Petro. There's something else I'm going to teach you."

"What?" he asked, sliding off the bed and getting a feel for his limbs. "I can't drink. I'm only fifteen!"

"Oh, shut the fuck up and come with me, "Brutis yanked his arm towards Xur, and the zabrak was quick to avoid them and allow the massive trooper passage. "You'll thank me later."

* * *

The latero had been gracious with the set up of their encampment, and Trilla was rather impressed with what they had put together. Aside from fold-out chairs assembled around the fire they had started; a table had been set up for sabacc games and socialization. The boys were busy trying drinks and laughing at each other, while Cere and Greez were simply chatting around the fire, and she intended to join them…since being pregnant cut her out of the fun of drinking any kind of alcohol.

That was becoming harder to cope with than she imagined, as the intense craving was running rampant even from the mere smell of the beverages. It was only then that she realized how addicted she was to it…and how much more difficult having this child may be, not that she ever expected it to be easy in the first place.

In order to throw Xur off, although she worried that if Cal decided to drink, it would also loosen his tongue…but then again, the child was coughing every time it barely entered his mouth, eliciting laughs from his older counterparts.

Besides, he'd remember her threatening warning every time it crossed his mind, drunk or not.

Nursing her own non-alcoholic beverage, Trilla noticed the approaching form of Merrin, who looked slightly flushed.

"Trilla," the nightsister greeted. "Hello."

"Hello," she replied, and it was only then that Trilla noticed how young she looked, much younger than she had originally assumed. "Merrin…right?"

Merrin nodded. "Yes. I was…hoping to ask you something, if you don't mind."

_That depends…of course, but I'll bite._

Trilla's nod as she sipped her drink prompted her to continue her train of thought. "How do you get them to…take another step?"

She cocked her head in confusion. "Them?"

Merrin cleared her throat, sifting through embarrassment. "Boys."

"Ah," Trilla recognized, a distinct smirk on her face, also knowing why she would ask such a thing. "Do you know what men want most out of their partner? Safety…warmth… stability," she listed, and Merrin listened intently. "At least the ones you should be pursuing. Tasteless men tend to spend more time considering the size of our tits or the diameter of our bottoms."

Merrin cocked her head in wonder. "_Tits_…?"

It took a moment for Trilla to realize she didn't know what that meant, and the former inquisitor patted her chest where the distinct curve of her body resided. "These."

"_Oh_," Merrin noticed, looking down at her own. "Is that a human obsession?"

Trilla giggled. "No, I do not believe it to be exclusive."

"I see," her eyes gazed back to the group of men still sporadically laughing hysterically, and Trilla put two and two together rather easily, especially after watching the two hold hands together.

"Sometimes if you move too quickly, they can get cold feet and run for the hills," Trilla added, and once again Merrin looked confused. "Cold feet as in _scared_."

"Scared?" she asked. "Why would Cal…I mean…why would a boy be scared?"

"Perhaps he feels insecure about himself, or he feels his life changing so rapidly he feels it would be safer for him to stop. As I said, Merrin, safety and stability are the things men desire but will never admit. Someone like the Pada…like _Cal_ is one to be so worried about making you feel uncomfortable that he will not attempt to _take another step_, as you put it."

"But he doesn't make me feel uncomfortable…"

Trilla smiled, stepping forward and gently grasping her upper arm with her free hand. "Then you need to _show_ him that. You must realize that us women might need to take the first step, but once you do, it is rare for them to not follow."

The nightsister slowly nodded her head. "I see."

"You're a pretty girl, Merrin," Trilla complimented. "You need only realize it."

She smiled. "Thank you, Trilla…although if we are referring to our respective beauty, you certainly have me beat."

Trilla laughed at that. "Oh, nonsense. In honesty, I forgot to mention that most men have an obsession with exotic women, and I am just another human girl who applies too much makeup."

"You are too humble," Merrin remarked.

Trilla scoffed. "I know for a fact that I am certainly not that. Come now, let's join the others."

* * *

"I know you don't have any illusions about this," Xur asked Raven as the two of them conversed away from the assembled others. "How do you rate our chances?"

Raven chuckled, taking a sip of his drink and watching one of Ziost's moons shine overhead. "Honestly? The Empire has already killed you once, and all it really seemed to do was piss you off…"

"Twice, technically," Xur corrected.

"Right, of course," he acknowledged. "With that, I can't image they'll stop you this time…but the Fortress is no joke. It's designed to keep people in, but not necessarily people _out_, so I think breaching it will be the easy part. However, with all the horrible systems they have set up in that place…we're going to lose people…I don't think there's any getting around that."

Xur grimaced at that, admittedly true, analysis. He found his eyes drifting back to the group behind them, Trilla's smile wide as she laughed with the others. She looked so happy…and the signature she radiated was breathtakingly bright, spreading that happiness to everyone around her, whether they noticed it or not.

And he was about to make her go back to the place that had taken everything away from her.

"Not a happy analysis, I know," Raven admitted, squeezing the shoulder of his old friend. "I won't spread it around."

Xur sighed, his buzz kicking in as he looked away, but not enough to shake the rampant thoughts running through his head. "I keep running the scenario over and over, but every time I imagine us going through that place…someone doesn't make it out…and sometimes _none_ of us make it out."

"They know we're coming," Raven surmised. "I don't think they'll be surprised to see us, so we'll just have to do what we always do."

Xur cocked his head, waiting for his answer.

"Keep beating on the door until it falls," he said, raising his cup.

Xur smacked his own to that. "Damn right."

Both taking a drink, their exasperations were heavy as they shook off the taste. "Oh, that's good," Xur remarked.

Raven chuckled. "The Commander sure knows how to pick out a good ale."

"She has many talents," he nodded with a swell of pride. "That being but one of her best."

_I love her so much._

His old Captain rapped his elbow on Xur's back. "You should be with her, Eon. She's happy now…and I'm sure you being with her will only make her happier."

Xur had kept his distance thus far to allow her to socialize with the others, but as his intoxication grew, it was becoming more difficult to follow through with that. The desire to have her body to warm his own was potent, but it was more than that. If they were going to jump into hell tomorrow, then he wanted to spend his last night on earth with her…and he wanted it to be special.

The zabrak nodded, patting Raven on the back and pacing to join the rest of them, who were intently watching Trilla as she spoke.

"_Cahka_," she said, and immediately Cal, Cere, Greez and Petro had expressions of thought, which was confusing at first.

"That's definitely huttese," Cal noted, and then cocked his head. "Cake?"

Trilla giggled as she shook her head. "No."

Greez grunted, but Cere leaned forward. "Bring?"

"Close," Trilla pointed.

"Carry!" Petro blurted.

"Yes!" Trilla clapped, and Xur finally deducted they were trying to guess the words she spoke…and he certainly would not have been able to guess that.

"I swear I'm going to get one," Cal groaned, taking a drink with a hilarious grimace at the taste following, while Merrin sat close beside him.

"How many do you speak again?" Greez asked.

Trilla's eyes went towards the night sky as she counted. "Huttese, Catharese, Mando'a, Thyrsian, Echani, Old Corellian, Meese Caulf, Proto-Basic, very weak Wookie…some Sith."

Merrin laughed. "Just some Sith on the side, no need to worry."

Everyone laughed at her joke, and Cere reminisced. "Do you remember when we were on…wow what was it…I remember we were stranded on a planet where you had to speak that one dialect of Echani with the natives. I just had to hope and pray you weren't saying anything provocative."

"_Oh_ yes, I remember," Trilla nodded. "I can't remember the name of the planet for the life of me."

Cal raised his hand slightly for her attention. "Has anyone ever talked shit to you in another language, but you never told them you understood?"

"Yes, a few times," Trilla narrowed her eyes. "More recently, when Xur and I were on Vandor," she looked his way, raising her cup in acknowledgment, and he returned the gesture. "One of the card players whispered, 'black-haired slut' under his breath in huttese right after I cleaned him out in sabacc."

Xur scoffed. "You never told me that."

Trilla shrugged. "Wasn't worth noting. The man lost all of his credits anyhow."

"Still…a little fist to the jaw only hurts him," Greez threw in. "I remember my first card fight. I think I broke a few of the tables."

Cal snorted. "I don't know why I actually find that believable."

"I'm with you on that one, General," Lockdown raised his cup, but then backtracked on his statement. "Excuse me…_Commander_ Kestis."

The red head's face fell, and a vibe-killing wave roared through the group as they fell silent, the reminder that Cal Kestis had survived Order 66, fought his way to where he was now…and still was not considered a Jedi Knight.

Lockdown cleared his throat. "Sorry…I didn't mean…"

"No," Cere shook her head, looking to be in thought, until her face snapped into focus, and she rose to her feet. "There's no apology needed."

Cal looked up to Cere in confusion for a moment, until she stepped aside to an open area, and Xur caught on. Pulling one of his hilts from his belt, he tossed it her way, and the former Jedi Master caught it with ease, holding the hilt at her side.

"Kneel," she prompted.

Cal hesitated, his expression wavering around the group as he searched for approval, when there really was no need to. Merrin seemed more confused that he was, but she could sense what may be going on, and she pressed him to step forward.

It was then that Xur remembered how unsure _he_ had been when this time had come.

Cal Kestis, Jedi Padawan, rose to his feet and paced before Cere, dropping to one knee. Cere, with a breath, flicked the switch of the orange blade, illuminating the night…and that's when the moment really hit home for all those observing it.

The beam was lowered to his left shoulder, "By the right of the Council," she recited, and then moved the blade to his right shoulder. "By the will of the Force."

When it nearly tapped the tip of his head, he trembled slightly. "Cal Kestis…rise…_Jedi Knight_."

He lifted his head proudly, and in that moment, all of his doubt was gone. Cal rose to his full height a knight of the Jedi Order, a guardian of peace and justice in a galaxy that now had little of both.

It almost brought a tear to Xur's eye.

Greez's hands came together into a clap, and soon everyone joined in, Merrin rising to her feet to rush into Cal's arms and pull him in for a passionate kiss, and the cheers only grew at the sight.

"To General Cal Kestis, Jedi Knight!" Raven raised his cup just behind Xur, and everyone seconded that…all but Trilla, whose claps were becoming slower and expression further downcast the longer they persisted, and that made his own suffer the same fate. He didn't sense jealousy, however.

It was disappointment…in _herself_.

That wasn't fair…not after everything that had happened, not after all she had endured and subsequently overcame. If anyone had proven to have the capabilities of a Jedi Knight, it was her, and she deserved to have her moment.

"What about Trilla?" Petro asked out of the blue, and the celebrations dwindled down as they become aware…and Cere's pride was sapped away in an instant. "I think she should defin-."

"No," Trilla shook her head, drooped in a defeated pose. "I can't."

"Why not?" Brutis asked, more loquacious with enough whiskey in his system.

She sighed. "It's rather elementary. I turned to the Dark Side. The Code forbids it."

Brutis snorted at that. "Fuck the Code."

Merrin seemed to agree. "Cere, you should make her a Knight as well."

Cere's expression drained, and with a destitute sigh, she shook her head. "I…as much as I might want to…I can't," she turned to Trilla, who looked at her former master with a similar expression. "I've forfeited the right to ever grant her such a title. It just…it wouldn't be right. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Trilla tipped her head. "I'm not even sure…I really deserve it."

_That's a fucking lie._

Lockdown scoffed. "Well, if I was a Jedi Master, I'd knight you."

_That_ had Xur thinking and delving back into his sporadic and mostly unsuccessful study of _The Jedi Path_ handbook he had lost long ago; one distinct prose came to mind.

"You don't need a Master…" Xur trailed off. "Any Jedi Knight can make another Knight, if he is deemed the ranking Jedi."

Trilla froze in place.

"I'll prove it," Xur pointed, assuming the position Cere had taken, accepting his blade back into his grip, and then prompting just as she had. "Kneel…Padawan Suduri."

She looked at him as if he was a madman, resulting in a mocking scoff. "You can't be serious."

Xur maintained a no-nonsense stare, and he _meant_ it. "Do you want to be a Knight or not?"

Once Trilla realized he was dead serious, the mockery faded, and he felt her insecurity blossom, questions upon questions flaring within the depths of her mind as she desperately searched for an excuse to deny herself this moment. He could see the hurt in her eyes as part of her begged him to leave it be…but a far stronger part of her knew this was right. She knew that with the death of the Second Sister, once and for all, there was nothing standing between herself and reconciliation.

All those Jedi she had hunted, and all those she had killed…the weapon the Empire had forged her into…_that_ had died its final death. Padawan Trilla Suduri was alive, and this was long overdue.

Her eyes came to Cere, and without hesitation, she sent her a nod of approval.

With shaky legs, Trilla rose to her feet and relinquished all that resided in her hands, slowly pacing towards the man who had helped her live again, and Xur's own pride for her was difficult to bottle down as she stood across from him, trying desperately to hold herself proper. Purging the final bits of doubt, Trilla fell to one knee, and bowed her head.

Xur ignited his blade, and all others rose from their seats, pacing to observe such a pinnacle moment for a woman who had touched each of their lives for better or for worse, and all who respected her anyway. The wind churned, and Xur felt the Force shift as darkness fleeted from himself and into the complete manifestation of the energy field that bound the galaxy together.

_This_ was meant to be.

Lowering the blade to her left shoulder, Xur recited the words that came to his heart. "By the right of the Council…by the will of the Force," he ended on her right shoulder, and her trembling came to a head, suppressing the sniffles that came.

The zabrak rose his blade above her head and cast it aside. "Trilla Suduri, once the Second Sister…rise…_reborn_ a Jedi Knight."

Trilla rose to her feet, her eyes shut as she processed the wave that had ripped in the Force, and now had crashed, cascading in the distance, the last remnants of the destructive darkness within her gone forever. When her eyelids opened, the emerald they displayed was clear…the corruptive yellow washed away.

"Thank you," she gasped, and he nodded, his own tears appearing as she stepped forward, wrapping him in a tight hug and pressing her lips against his. Cheers erupted as they shared their moment, maintaining no intention to ever let go.

"To Trilla Suduri…Jedi Knight!"

* * *

Cal unruffled the sheets of his bed as he shook them out, pulling them over in a neat fashion. The festivities had concluded, and they all knew they would need rest for the task they would undertake tomorrow. Assaulting the Fortress against an Empire that knew they were coming would be considered a suicide mission by most everyone, and Cal could not find a valid way to disagree.

Still…tonight felt like it was still missing the final piece…one he could not place.

Merrin was standing at his workbench, leaning back as she watched him make his own bed, preparing to retreat to her own room…such a simple routine, and yet its current complication froze her in place.

"I'm…proud of you, Cal," Merrin admitted. "Even if I don't entirely understand what just happened tonight."

Cal chuckled, taking a seat on the mattress. "Thanks Merrin…maybe I'll explain it to you in better detail soon. In short…I've ended my apprenticeship, and now am a true Jedi…" he trailed off, the realization hitting him harder than he expected, even if it had crossed his mind many times since then.

_If only Master Tapal could see this._

He knew he'd be proud of him, and now as a Jedi Knight, Cal would carry his legacy into the future…and hopefully beyond.

She stepped forward, pacing his way with a growing smile until she sat right beside him, soothingly running her hand over his back. He felt himself exhale through his nose heavily with her touch, and immediately his joy compounded with her presence. In fact, every time Merrin was beside him, he felt stronger…infinitely more vibrant than before, and it only made him wonder why the Jedi had forbade such feelings.

The Jedi had preached to love others and care for them…so why could he not love one nightsister just a little bit more?

"I…couldn't have done this without you, Merrin," he confessed. "Me becoming a Jedi…you contributed to that more than you might realize."

Merrin smiled, tipping her head. "I knew a little Jedi like yourself could use a little push now and then…but it was the least I could do. I spent so many years alone, contemplating what my life could have been like if my sisters had never been killed. Secluding myself, I had forgotten what it meant to live…until you showed me that there was more to the galaxy than just Dathomir. I could fight…I could do some good with just a few friends and a tiny ship."

Cal chuckled. "The Mantis didn't seem small until we stepped aboard the Fury. That's when I started to develop claustrophobia in here."

She leaned in, wrapping her arms around him. "What about now? Still feel claustrophobic?"

His cheeks heated, but he smiled back, wrapping his own arm around her. "I always feel safe with you…knowing I've got an invisible guardian always watching my back."

"That doesn't frighten you?" she asked, and there was no sarcasm behind it…as it was a valid and honest question.

"No," Cal shook his head, and turned, allowing them space to look each other in the eye with sincerity. "Nothing about you frightens me, and nothing ever will. I don't know how to explain it, but…you're them missing piece I've been searching for since the Purge. I know it."

Merrin's eyes widened longingly.

He searched for the words to talk away his rising feelings, but they were fleeting, and all he could do was stammer. "Merrin…I…"

She lurched forward, kissing him hungrily as her inhibitions were relinquished, and Cal felt his own wash away in that moment as he returned the gesture, pressing forward with a madness he could not explain nor relinquish. Merrin forcefully grasped ahold of his belt and tore it from his clothing, while Cal followed suit, behaving almost like a drone with no control over his own actions.

He wanted to see her. He wanted to see _all_ of her.

Pulling off her top robe, Cal opened her suit and planted kisses on her neck that tasted so sweet he became instantly addicted, unable to pull his mouth from her skin as she relished in the ecstasy it brought. Their movements were rapid, uncontrolled, and only when they both had removed their tops did they find it in themselves to stop.

Cal breathed heavily, part of him ashamed of himself, but certainly rode the high that their passionate moment had granted him. "Sorry…"

Merrin narrowed her eyes, her breathing no easier. "Why…why would you ever be sorry?"

He gulped. "You know…we don't have to…if you don't want to…"

"By the heart of Dathomir, just shut your mouth," she giggled and kissed him again, her tongue slithering down his throat as she pushed him back, her legs spread across his chest as he finally took her advice…and shut his damn mouth.

Trilla had been right. There _was_ nothing better than this.

* * *

Trilla walked beside Xur, her arm locked around his as they paced through the desolate landscape, the quiet of the night allowing a calm reprieve to quell her raging emotions that had taken her this evening. After so much had occurred, simply strolling with her lover was all she could ask for. They planned on only a quiet pace before heading off to sleep…as they would certainly need their strength tomorrow.

Xur had a potent desire to lovemake with her, and she could sense that quite easily, but she had convinced him on this slow pace for a reason…more of a chance to allow herself to contemplate a difficult decision. Before, she was sure of it, but after what he had done for her today, she felt the need to tell him.

The need to tell him she was _pregnant_.

She figured, with how happy the two of them were now, and the fact that what transpired tomorrow could change them forever, she had only realized the uncertainty of the moment. For all she knew…there may not be another time to tell him, and if anything, knowing she bore his child would only be another reason to fight just a little harder…to press the issue only an inch more, which could make all the difference.

He leaned over, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Hun, what's up?"

Trilla shook her head and forced a bright smile. "Oh, nothing. Just…glad you're here."

_Ugh…that's not suspicious at all._

That was when he stopped, his look of concern evident. "Trilla…come on. Look, even before today I've noticed something different about you…since the little thing in the shower."

She narrowed her eyes, trying to switch the owner of the high ground. "You didn't like that?"

"I loved it," he stated flatly. "But every action has a reason or motive behind it…and there's something going on with you that has changed your attitude drastically, and I know it's not just from the…_activities_ we've been engaging in."

She frowned. "Is it a bad thing that I am a better person?"

"It's a _beautiful_ thing," he implored. "But I can't for the life of me place what the catalyst was…and I can…even now…sense something different about you."

_Just tell him._

Trilla swallowed heavily, and feeling an unnecessary need for discretion, she pressed forward, adjusting his hair with her real hand, and letting her fingers fall over his cheek.

"I'm going to tell you something…but you have to promise me you will react with rationality," she pleaded.

He seemed worried, but he nodded. "I promise."

The words were not that came to a head. Instead, using her free hand, she gently grasped his wrist and guided his hand to her stomach, and opened his fingers to feel. "Tell me what you feel."

Xur's eyes widened slowly, and in a sudden move, he pushed away, looking at her as if she was a stranger. "_You_…no…"

"Yes," she nodded, stepping forward to pull him in, only to watch him back away further. "Xur…_please_…"

"No!" he shouted in anger. "We agreed! You told me…you _promised _me!"

"I know, and I'm sorry!" she plead, her emotions boiling over, begging only for him to understand. "But I just kept…I just kept imagining what _could_ be."

Xur growled. "We do not live in a fairy tale, Trilla! How could you…how could you be so utterly fucking _stupid?!_"

Trilla froze, and immediately she felt the confrontational part of her wrap its arms around her heart. Her teeth grit, and she growled. "I suffered for _years_ at the hands of the Empire. How _dare_ you deny me _this!_"

"How _dare_ I?" he spat. "How dare I understand that this is _impossible!_ Once this child is born, they will _forever_ live hunted by the Empire, and after what they did to you…imagine what they will do to _them!_"

"Is that what we've done?" she challenged. "All these years…have you lived them in _fear?_ Have you spent every waking moment trembling at the prospect of the Empire tracking you down and rounding you up?"

He had no retort, merely fuming as he listened.

"No! You fought!" she growled; her passion ignited like a bonfire. "No matter what odds were placed before you, you fought anyhow…and now…you want to deny us a chance to _live_…because you're afraid?!"

His eyes shut, huffing in frustration.

"You _coward_."

"Indeed."

Trilla's gold blade was ignited in a flash, pointing the blaze directly into the face of their eavesdropper as her senses manifested. Illuminated, they did not flinch at her attack, and with the confirmation, Trilla's eyes slanted with intense focus.

"_You_…" Trilla recognized, barely a whisper.

Valeria Eon maintained her stance, her hands clasped behind her back as Trilla's blade threatened to burn at her chin. She merely stared down at her with her slightly superior height, and immediately Trilla suffered a resurgence of visions and flashbacks all belonging to the Second Sister, and all the venomous words she had to suffer via the woman standing before her…Xur's mother or not.

Valeria cocked her head, looking past the blade. "You are correct, Trilla Suduri. My son seems to have forgotten that fear must never guide his actions, for it only _clouds_ all things."

Xur bitterly looked away. "Mother…"

"How did you find us?" Trilla demanded, not lowering her blade.

She sighed. "Ziost is my home…which I can imagine is why he chose this place to reside for the night…just before your imminent attack on the Fortress you and I know so well."

Trilla turned her head in an analytical sense, trying to get a beat on why she was here, and what she intended.

"Lower your blade, my dear. I have no intention to harm you," she promised. "What you have sacrificed for my son…you will never once consider me an enemy of yours."

There was a sincerity to her tone that was motherly, and naturally began to lower her guard, but years of picking apart liars and manipulators shored it back up, knowing better than to take her word for it…but as she considered it, she realized how unwarranted this continued to be. The First Sister, while a rival, had never harmed her…in fact the rivalry was very one-sided, as Trilla dished out the brunt of the insults while Valeria hardly bothered to recognize her. She was merely a challenging figure…and from what she had been told…all she cared about was protecting her son…her family.

Their interests were _aligned_.

Her blade extinguished, and Trilla took a deep breath, expelling her animosity for a more analytical approach. "What is it you want?"

"I merely wanted to wish you both good luck, but it seems I have stumbled upon yet another one of my son's oversights," she scolded, her intense stare falling upon Xur, who had no retort. "She speaks truthfully, my dear," she stepped forward, searching for his eyes. "Do not tell me that after all I taught you…you will shout down the woman who has been your muse…your _drive_ for all this time. Your resilience to win her heart was absolute…and now when she wishes to expand your legacy, you're allowing it to flounder and _crack_ right before my eyes."

Xur still had no response, but his eyes trailed back to his mother, and Trilla felt his defiance weaken.

"Look at her," Valeria prompted, and with slight reluctance, Xur let his gaze fall back upon Trilla, and she felt his regret take hold as his anger dissipated. "Do you believe that she is incapable of protecting your child?"

"Well, no, but-."

"Then I fail to see what the issue is," his mother shrugged. "You showed her how to be rid of her fear…now be rid of yours. Imagine what kind of statement could be made with the birth of this child…to show the Empire cannot hope to control you and show how powerless the Sith truly are."

With that, he sighed with embarrassment, and Trilla felt her elation return at his turned feelings. "You're right."

Valeria tipped her head. "Good. Do not forget this lesson…and now…I must bid you farewell."

Xur reached out. "You're not going to help us?"  
"No…this is your path to walk, and yours alone. There are…other matters I must attend to…and if you are successful, then the galaxy will be ready for you to purge it of the darkness that has swept across its surface," she reasoned. "I have left a gift aboard your ship…a final token for your mission. You will find it quite…acceptable."

Xur swallowed roughly, likely at the prospect of leaving his mother again, but he nodded. "I understand…and thank you."

She merely flashed her eyes downwards before turning away, pacing into the darkness. "Protect my son, Trilla Suduri. This galaxy needs the two of you more than you know."

"I will," Trilla promised, just as they lost sight of her for the last time.

Alone, they stood apart, but once the moment had relinquished its hold, Xur pressed forward and wrapped her in his arms tighter than ever before, the movement of his muscles felt across her body. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "_I_ was stupid, not you. I know this was a difficult thing for you to do…and I punished you for it."

"It's alright," she eased, altering her voice into an almost motherly tone, softening his raging emotions into a beautiful serenity. "I should have told you."

He sniffled. "I'm going to be a father…"

"Yes," she pulled away to look him in the eye. "And you're going to be a damn good one too."

Xur pulled her hair from her face and grasped the side of her neck gently. "I can't imagine anyone else to do this with…I love you, Trilla."

"And I love _you_," she kissed his cheek. "With all my heart."

* * *

**Mustafar, 14 BBY**

**Vader's Castle**

_Anakin._

_ Anakin…_

_ Anakin!_

Vader's eyes erupted open after another nightmare had run its course, and he was instantly reminded of the bacta bath that surrounded his mutilated body, its healing liquid still working to repair his charred and ruined flesh. Those that had shouted the name of The Jedi were voices that were long extinguished…souls that had been long expunged from this world…some by his own hand.

There was no word…he would sense it anyhow.

Focusing his eyes forward, he drifted through the liquid and to the glass of his container, his stare bearing into the durasteel door to his healing chambers.

_Your move, Eon._

* * *

**That was far longer than I envisioned, and the next chapter may be twice as long…for it is the finale of the "novel" part of this story. Please be prepared for a longer wait for that chapter, as it may very well be in excess of 20,000 words. **

**Stay healthy and safe, for the assault begins at dawn.**

**See you then!**


	33. Endgame

**CHAPTER 28**

Endgame

"We will face the odds against us and run into the fear we've run from."

**Ziost, 14 BBY**

**Aboard the **_**Fury**_

Xur sifted through the contents of the crate his mother had left him, running his hands through the fine fabrics and lightweight metals of an intricate suit he had never seen before. Its design resembled that of a front-line warrior as well as a Jedi Knight, perhaps more in line of the Knights who were born into war and subsequently died to it. It was for a man whose peace _was_ battle, and to be rid of the fight was to be rid of himself.

"Shaped by war…" he whispered, pulling out what looked to be the main under suit.

"What's that?" Trilla asked, walking along the end of the bed frame and to where he knelt before the box. She was nearly dressed by now, only missing the armored bits of her full suit, and simultaneously tinkering with the purple hued variant of her helmet.

"Oh, nothing," Xur shook off, rising to his feet and trying to slide the under suit on. "Just something you said to me once…being forged by war."

Her eyes panned upwards in thought, but the memory eventually resonated. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah," Xur agreed, and then fumbled with the material, struggling to decipher how he was supposed to put it on. "Now how the fuck…"

Trilla giggled, setting her helmet aside. "Darling…see the back? Unzip and slide your legs through."

Xur flipped it around and saw the aperture for his insertion. "Ah…thanks, hun."

She tipped her head, reclaiming her helmet as she continued to toy with the vocabulator. "I couldn't bear to watch you be defeated by a set of clothing."

"Your concern is well received," Xur scoffed, sliding it over his body, and then struggling to reach the zipper on his back. "Son of a…"

Trilla shook her head, setting her helmet aside once again. "Alright General, it appears you need a girlfriend intervention."

"I can do it…" Xur protested.

"Shut up. Hold still," she directed, grasping his shoulder from behind as she pulled up the zipper. "I have experience with these intricate constructions. You should utilize it…and besides," she came up from behind, wrapping him in a hug as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "You get to have my hands _all_ over your body."

"_Hmph_," Xur smirked. "You always were persuasive."

"It's an art," she pulled away, kneeling beside the crate and running through its contents. Xur could only cock his head in wonder as she mumbled to herself…but in a short time she nodded. "I see…oh…this is lovely," she remarked, lifting what looked to be a clump of shoulder plates and the chest piece, until she unraveled it to show the shape of his upper body. "This looks like composite beskar…perhaps with…cortosis?"

Xur felt his own eyes gleam. "So basically no bolts are getting through."

Trilla rose and prompted him to lower his head, and with assistance, slid the top piece over his body. It was very light, despite looking rather cumbersome, and the composite armor covered his vital areas very efficiently…looking elegant as well as achieving its purpose. She pulled at it behind him, unable to see what she was doing, but he felt it lock into place…so she obviously knew what she was doing.

The rest of the suit was almost the same story, light and not overbearing, but also protective in its design, and Xur especially liked the boots and gauntlets. His mother had spared no expense, and while he could question how exactly she had gathered all the necessary resources to assemble it, he found himself too impressed to worry about it.

"Ah, and the belt," Trilla retrieved, and a fabric flopped down, which Xur deducted was the half-cape that covered his rear and legs from the back but was short enough to stay off the ground. Coming from the front, she didn't allow him to do the honors as she wrapped it around his waist, sliding it through the loops, and then planted a kiss on his lips as she clipped it closed. He didn't let her off that easy, wrapping her lithe frame into his strong grip as he kissed her back, relishing in the taste of her lips and the energy she granted him. When she pulled away, she smiled, running the back of her hand over his face. "I always knew we'd start to get along…even when you looked like that…_imbecile_."

Xur chuckled at the memory of the two of them in that shuttle heading to Bracca. "We've come a long way, haven't we?"

Her eyes panned down as she nodded. "Indeed," holding her hand over her stomach. "Our future is here…"

He looked down, sensing the life within much more vividly now that he knew what resided there. "We need only earn it."

Trilla nodded, stepping away and paced to the rest of her garments, proceeding to pull over her gloves and securing her gauntlet pieces. "There's one last thing in there."

The zabrak turned, peeking within to spot a silvery helmet, its design sleek, intimidating, and yet beautiful in the same instance. Lifting it from within, he observed the optical cutouts for each eye, as well as the elegant design for the vocabulator…but a distinct engraving caught his eye on the right of the forehead. It was a symbol…perhaps a glyph…but he couldn't read it.

It was a good thing the woman he loved was a particular expert at such things.

"Trilla," he asked, and she turned, just about to slide her helmet over her head. "Take a look at this."

She looked at the glyph intriguingly, and once he saw her eyes flash in recognition, he made no move to stop her from taking it from his hands. "It's Sith…" she surmised, and studied it further, falling silent.

"Can you read it?"

After a moment, she turned, pacing forward with pride. "It means _balance_."

Taking it back, he smiled. "_Balance_…I like the sound of that."

"As do I," she agreed, and slid over her helmet, already giving him returning memories of seeing her walk beside him in her full getup. "How does it sound?" she asked, the projection of her voice deep and mechanical.

"A lot less scary now that you're on my side," he said, pulling over his own and activating the HUD, which was clear and perfect, granting him integrity information as well as other various bits. "How does mine sound?"

She cocked her head, the violet gaze slightly unsettling, but the effect faded quickly. "I want to say…like you, but with a bit more of an authoritative edge…"

He scoffed. "I didn't have one before?"

She giggled, stepping towards him, and revealing her hilt. "It was…_inconsistent_," she admitted, and Xur noticed the circular track mechanism had been attached to her old hilt, as well as a second emitter.

"I see you couldn't be without the spin," he noted.

"I admit I did miss it on Kashyyyk," she tipped her head, and then ignited the gold blades, opening the tracks and spinning them in a flash, proving it to be functional before deactivating her weapon. "We embrace who we are."

"Agreed," he nodded. "Are you ready?"

There was no hesitation, and he could feel her resolve rooted in the life she contained.

"Born."

* * *

Trilla found intense amusement from Cal's less-than-subtle guarded reaction to seeing her fully dressed once again, flinching for his blade as he entered the _Fury_ with Merrin just behind him, only to take a breath with unsettled eyes.

"Is this all of them?" Trilla asked.

"Ha, ha," Cal mocked as she reenacted their first meeting on Bracca. "Hilarious."

Merrin furrowed her brow. "I don't get it."

"Long story," Trilla smirked behind her helmet, before finally pulling it off for the briefing. "You needn't be so jumpy, Kestis."

Cal scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah. Forgive me for being a little on edge, especially with what we're about to do."

"We're all on edge," Cere agreed from behind, and Greez followed. Trilla met her eyes with little restraint, their time spent together the night before finally melting away at the ice that had stuck them apart. They may never be entirely healed, but they were far better in terms of relations than Trilla ever thought possible. "This mission…well, it isn't going to be easy."

Merrin nodded. "In my short experience, I have noticed that nothing with Jedi is ever easy."

_Jedi._

Part of Trilla didn't feel right being grouped within that title, even with the happiness it had granted her…but not necessarily because she didn't feel she deserved it.

She just didn't feel that was _her_.

It mattered little anyhow. If Merrin ever saw a being with a lightsaber, the first thing that came into her mind was probably _Jedi_, whoever that being may serve. Xur had even previously admitted that he still preferred her to be _her_, and not conform to the Jedi Code if she didn't feel it was right. He had maintained that standpoint for many years, and it only seemed to enhance after the Jedi Order formally died.

She only hoped they had made the right choice.

"Where's Xur?" Cal asked as the others assembled around the large holotable, passing the time with outside conversation.

"Conversing with our asset," Trilla answered. "He will be out in a moment."

"He is already finished," Rava interrupted from below, rolling alongside Trilla's feet. "I have the schematics uploaded to my memory, and we will be going over the plan shortly."

BD chirped from Cal's back.

"It was fast, bipedal, because unlike you, I have VI hardware that can process and store the information and near quantum-computing power," Rava bit back.  
_Deet-beep boop._

"No I do not have a humor node. That would take up valuable hardware space. Can you track starships through hyperspace?"

_Doooo. Bree-doo-oop._

Trilla scoffed and giggled at that. "Yes, BD, at least you aren't always a grouch."

"I am not a _grouch_," Rava protested.

"Obviously," Cal remarked, patting BD on the head.

"Ah yes, mock me, Cal Kestis," Rava grumbled. "And when your latero pilot fails to navigate the pathway necessary to infiltrate the Fortress, we shall see who gets the last laugh."

"Hey!" Greez pointed. "I'd trust living hands at the yoke over a bucket of bolts any day."

"I'm sure _everything_ is under control," Cere eased.

"Yes, everything on the Fury is perfectly under control," Rava agreed. "I cannot say the same for the Stinger Mantis."

Trilla nudged Rava with her foot. "That's quite enough, grouch."

"I am not a-," she paused as her red optic fell upon Trilla's intense gaze, who had grown tired of her discord-brewing attitude at such a pivotal moment. "I see…" she bowed. "Apologies."

"It's alright," Trilla knelt, patting her domed head. "I could not have made it this far without your help. You are a very smart…_construction_."

Rava seemed as humbled as she could display. "Thank you…Trilla…and perhaps you are right, Bipedal Designation 1. Perhaps I could use a humor node."

"Nonsense," Trilla shook her head. "I like you the way you are."

_Deet-deet._

"BD…" Cal warned, and he merely insisted he was kidding.

Merrin cleared her throat. "I am still confused as to what is going on."

Trilla turned her gaze to Cal. "You haven't bothered to teach her binary speech yet?"

Cal flushed red with embarrassment, and Cere only smirked with crossed arms. "Duh-uh…I was planning to, but, well…" Merrin was craning her head with a smile, and Trilla was surprised to see his embarrassment fade. "I will soon."

There was blissful happiness between the two of them, which Trilla didn't take long to deduct that it had to be the result of the nightsister taking her advice, an thus acting upon it…of course that now meant Trilla had lost yet another thing to tease him about. Calling him _Padawan_ no longer made much sense either…

She smiled to herself. None of that mattered anymore.

Merrin, Cal and Greez eventually drifted away for their own conversation, giving Trilla and Cere a chance to be alone.

"You look ready…" Cere noted, and Trilla only popped her brow.

"Then I must be good at wearing a face," she admitted. She knew she had told Xur otherwise, but that was necessary, as she couldn't have him worrying about her when they hit the Fortress.

In truth, she was not ready to see that place again, not after losing the mindset that had been burned within her as the Second Sister. The devices, halls and sounds all instilled terror and disgust as opposed to pleasure and satisfaction, and she was truly unsure how she would react when she saw it.

"And you?" Trilla asked, finally setting her helmet aside. Cere's eyes couldn't help but gaze at it momentarily, and her former apprentice caught it in time.

"Are you sure going in like this is a good idea?" she asked in a quiet tone, referring to her clothing. "Sometimes traumatic events can be triggered by…"

Trilla raised her hand with a stern look. "Believe me, I understand traumatic triggers, Cere."

"I know, and I didn't mean it like that…"

"I'm sorry this reminds you of what _we_ went through in that place," she apologized. "But like it or not, this is who I am now. That loss…that pain will forever be a part of me…but that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

Cere swallowed, her eyes witnessing that hurt she felt once again.

"It is not suffering that defines us," Trilla said, her tone matter of fact. "It is what we _do_ with that suffering, that makes us who we are."

She smiled at that, the pride in her expression brilliant. "I am what you've grown beyond, aren't I?"

Trilla smiled back. "Then you've done your job…Master."

She could think of no better gesture than to pull Cere in for a hug, sharing and expelling the pain held in within themselves, and almost immediately she felt her unease at the coming mission flutter away. Cere returned the gesture, and years of animosity…the remnants of it…had been expunged and relinquished.

When they pulled away, Trilla reached within her cape. "And…well, I know it's not perfect, but it's the last one I have," she presented her final inquisitor hilt she had in storage, offering it to her. "But a weapon is a weapon."

Cere hesitated for a moment, but eventually reached out, grasping the slick design and twirling her wrist with it. "It will do…thank you, Trilla."

"Of course," she bowed slightly, and in that moment, Xur emerged from her room, his helmet in his grasp…and a sharpened expression of raw focus on his face. It was so solid, in fact, that when he passed by, he barely offered her any acknowledgment, simply taking his spot around the holotable.

"General," Raven greeted. "Nice suit."

"Thanks," he tipped his head. "Sorry if I kept you all…but the final piece has been fit. In a few hours, we'll be hitting that Fortress with our combined strength; all we've worked for in recent weeks is about to come to fruition."

Trilla watched him anxiously, his eyes pacing to all that stood beside him: Raven, Lockdown, Brutis, Petro, Merrin, Cal and BD-1, Greez, Cere…and finally to her.

"We've all had a hard five years, to say the least. Some of us filled with fear, regret…and some of us suffering. I know it has been difficult for us to cope with it, and sometimes even impossible…but here we are…with a chance to make it right. Each and every one of us has a stake in this operation, and I promise you, by the end of it…we _will_ be standing atop the rubble of that wretched place."

"Damn right," Brutis nodded, and the agreement was unanimous.

"Rava…bring up the schematics," he prompted, and Trilla watched the VI plug into the port below and work her magic, bringing up the hologram of the entire Fortress, most of it submerged beneath the sea. Her mind raced at the sight of it, but reclaiming calm focus, she was quickly back under control.

"Based off of what our asset has provided us, there is an underwater hatch that can be accessed from the front of the facility, here," Rava highlighted.

"That's the defensive perimeter," Xur noted. "Used as the last line of defense to prevent prisoners from escaping, but they'd never expect a direct attack from there. Best we can tell, that's our ticket in."

"Don't forget the landing pad," Trilla interjected. "If we can get the Fortress to extend it, we'll be able to hit them from two fronts. In honesty, their forces aren't as plentiful as you may believe."

"Only a couple platoons, if I remember correctly," Lockdown added.

"Yes, but they know we're coming. I wouldn't be surprised if we find an entire army waiting for us there, so careful tactics are going to be key," Xur warned. "Once we get past the blockade…"

"Woah, woah, woah, hang on," Greez stopped him. "_Once?_ What's the plan for the blockade? With the defenses they've got, the usual tricks just aren't gonna cut it."

Trilla had enough outside knowledge to infer what his plan was, but he didn't know Nur's defenses like she did…and she wasn't sure Vorchenko's presence would be enough.

"I have an…Admiral…on the inside," Xur admitted, which somewhat surprised her, but she was glad he decided to reveal it. "They will be subverting the defenses…and eventually opening fire once the time is right."

Cere didn't look convinced. "They'll have every Star Destroyer in the sector swarming Nur if that ever happened."

"Not if we cut off communication from the ground," Trilla argued, a thought appearing. "If one of us can get the shields down from within the Fortress, then Rava can use the Fury to destroy it."

Greez huffed. "Okay, say this works to some capacity. One of your Admiral's ships can only occupy two at the _most_. What's stopping the excess guns from vaporizing you?"

"I have cyber warfare suites that the Empire has no counter against," Rava revealed from below. "I can hack their central computers and throw their targeting off course."

Petro leaned in. "Could you get them to fire on their own ships?"

"I admit my task capacity has its limits…" Rava said, begrudgingly. "I must also fly the ship."

"Nonsense," Trilla denied. "This is my ship. Allow me," Xur didn't seem as on board as she wanted him to be, but he kept it to himself, something that bothered her more than if he had spoken up. "I flew TIE Interceptors quite often. I'm a better pilot than you may think."

"That isn't the problem. I need you on the ground, and if you're up in the Fury, we're down a lightsaber," Xur corrected.

"I can reassume control once we hit the atmosphere," Rava offered. "The Fury will be far too small to the Star Destroyers by then anyhow."

Cal grumbled. "This is great, but the Mantis is still exposed, and, no offense Greez, not as fast as the Fury."

"And without a cyber war-thing," Greez added.

"I think I can help," Merrin jumped in, coming out of a moment of thought.

Cere leaned in. "What are you thinking?"

"A ritual," she explained. "It will hide the ship, or at least it should."

Greez and Xur were both taken aback, and gasped in unison, "A _ritual?_" The three soldiers didn't seem too fond of that idea either, and Petro merely held an intrigued look.

"She has a knack for this kind of stuff," Cal eased.

"Yeah, no shit," Xur retorted. "What kind of ritual are we talking about here?"

"And this will require…what exactly?" Greez questioned.

Merrin's huff and roll of eyes made Trilla quietly giggle to herself. "A sacrifice. I'll just need perhaps one of your arms, and a black lock of your hair, Eon."

"Wait _what?_" Greez gasped, eliciting laughs from the less dense residents of the room, even Xur included, who snorted in amusement.

"It's a jest, latero," Trilla answered for him, rolling her own eyes.

"Well, if that hocus-pocus gets you past the blockade, I don't give a damn," Xur accepted, and Cal and Cere were content with that plan, Greez shaking off the embarrassment. "That's the easy part, though. The hard part is going to be getting deep enough into the Fortress where we can do enough damage, and _then_ find a way to destroy the entire base without killing ourselves as well."

Trilla was not surprised to see Lockdown key in on the hologram. "The entire Fortress is suspended above a lava river that flows beneath the surface, but its anchored in bedrock far too dense for us to sink it. Nothing short of a nuke is going to blow this place to hell."

"And I'd say we're a _little _short on those…" Raven remarked.

The ideas died as all studied the hologram, trying to determine some method that could possibly destroy the durasteel manifestation of hell, and all looked stumped. Even Trilla could not see an immediate answer.

"No…we're not," Brutis denied, and then keyed in on the lowest part of the Fortress, just below the Interrogation Chamber. "Underneath the armored cunt's lightning rod is a prototype fusion accelerator. I know this because I walked patrols down there. From what I've heard, if we can get it to overheat…"

Xur waited as if prepping for a punchline. "And?"

Brutis smirked. "Ever swim a few laps on the surface of a star?"

The zabrak nodded with a smile. "Alright, we just need to find a way to get there."

"Don't worry about that. The kid and I will handle the demolition. The rest of you should focus on getting…well, whatever it is you intend on doing here aside from blowing it to bits," Brutis suggested.

"You sure you don't want us down there?" Raven offered.

"Yeah," Brutis snorted. "Pretty sure."

Cal finally took his chance to speak up, as he looked as if he were about to burst. "The holocron…we need to be absolutely sure we get that."

"We will," Xur confirmed. "If Merrin can completely hide your ship from sensors, then I recommend that you and Cere head in first, disable the shields and extend the landing pad, while the rest of us will take out the comm tower and kick down the front door."

Trilla raised her brow. "Frontal assault…on a Fortress?"

The zabrak wasn't surprised by her concern, and he only graced her with a confident gaze. "They can't stop the two of us together, let alone everyone else behind us."

Trilla sighed. "Arrogance is perhaps unwise…"

"Maybe," he granted. "But if they know we're coming, they'll expect us to be careful. You and me…we're infiltrators to them, quiet scythes in the night. This time we'll show them we're hammers…battering rams…_slayers_. They won't be prepared for it…I guarantee it."

It was foolhardy, and she knew it, but she had no better option. Rushing the pad would be the best way to draw attention away from Cal and Cere, while also forcing the Empire to divide forces.

"Alright."

The consensus was sound, and by then they knew the plan was set. There was a reverberation of coming to terms with what they were about to do, but there was no fear…no hesitation present, and Trilla knew best that this had to be done. Not only just for her…but for _all_ of them to heal…to look beyond the horrible things they've experienced as a result of this terrible place.

The wait was over. The time was now.

"I don't know how many the Empire has taken…ten, fifty, a thousand…we've lost many of our brothers and sisters to what they have wrought in this place…and the despair that they hope to imprint upon the galaxy. Today we have a chance to end it…today we have the chance to tell the Empire that we will _not_ stand by while children suffer under their grasp, and that they may have killed the Jedi…but they can _never_ kill our tenacity," he paced, and Trilla felt the inspirational reaction. "Each and every one of us will march straight into this hell that they have built, and I guarantee that we will wreak a havoc so terrible that all those who seek to instill terror in our hearts will _beg_ before us to show mercy.

"Let's tear this place apart," he stepped forward, pointing his finger. "Let's hit the fuckers where they _live!_"

Trilla clenched her fist, and that's when she knew her retribution had begun.

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Mustafar System**

"Ma'am…Nur is fast approaching."

Vorchenko's eyes were fixed on the gas giant Jestefad as they left the magma planet Mustafar in their wake. Using the massive planet's gravity well as a slingshot, the _Valkyrie_ was now approaching the water moon at an incredible speed, much faster than the suggested approach velocity for the moon's orbit.

She was about to commit high treason against the Galactic Empire, as was every crew member aboard her ship. Handpicked each and all, their loyalty to their Admiral came above all else, as many of them were of worlds that had been ruined by the Empire's exploitation.

They would follow her no matter what side she adopted…and the time had come for her to reveal herself.

Through the enhanced viewport image, the blockade of Nur was three Star Destroyers in all, the flagship being the _Pride_…the flagship of Admiral Slovis. She knew he would be here, and it was unfortunate she could not have caught him sooner, but it would be no matter. If, for but a moment, his crew believed he would lose, there would be no one left aboard to man their stations.

"Admiral, we are being hailed."

Vorchenko kept her eyes fixed, probing the field of battle. "Ignore it. Press forward."

One of her death trooper guards stepped forward beside her, disabling their vocal scrambler. "Ma'am…are we sure about this?"

The Admiral felt her head lean back slightly. "Not to worry, Antaria. You will be rid of that armor soon enough."

Her echani guard in disguise momentarily shivered with anticipation, which was precisely the reaction the Admiral had been searching for, followed by a silent nod in approval.

That was when the brakes were manually engaged, and the _Valkyrie_ began to grind to a halt.

* * *

_**Stinger Mantis**_**, 14 BBY**

**Exiting Hyperspace**

Cal kept his grip on the pilot's chair as Greez pulled the _Mantis_ out of hyperspace, and in the distance, their quarry was waiting before a deep blue planet, its oceans and clouds visible even from such a space away. His mind ran through the scenarios over and over, checking his bases and shoring up his confidence, as well as assuring himself that if he did everything right, everyone would make it out alive. Every child on that list depended on a small band of force users and soldiers…against an entire Empire…and yet he felt it was possible.

Three Star Destroyers stood between them and the planet Nur, but if their plan went full circle, they wouldn't have to fire a shot.

"Honestly Greez," Cal nudged the latero as he eased his ship forward. "What do you think the odds are?"

There was no hesitation in his answer, just a mere turn of his head and a supportive smile. "My money has always been on you, kid."

Cal appreciated that more than he could ever display, and he could only grant him a confident smile in return, just as he felt another presence in the cockpit…one he at least knew would be safe aboard the _Mantis_. When he faced Merrin, she displayed anxious worry, slight fidgeting of her fingers and arms as her brown eyes looked upon him…a longingness that appeared to store the image of him as if it was the last time.

"Cal…be careful…please," she begged, but not in an undignified manner. "Whatever you see in that place…do not let it change you."

He eased forward, taking her hands into his. "Everything is going to be fine, Merrin."

Her eyes shut. "You say that, but you do not believe it yourself. You _think_ it might, but you do not _know_."

His eyes panned down, accepting her correct assumption. "There isn't a way to know," he admitted. "We're going into a place designed to break people like me…but I won't let them. I'll get the holocron, and I promise…I _will_ come back to you."

"You'd _better_," Merrin warned. "Or I swear I will haunt your dreams for eternity, dead or alive."

Cal laughed at that. "_Well_…now I'm certainly more motivated to make it out alive."

She hadn't been kidding, but she managed to crack a smile anyway. "I'm going to need my Jedi to make this galaxy a little brighter, just as he always does."

Even with all the built confidence he had manifested, that still brought a blush to his face. Pulling him in, Merrin planted her lips against his, and they shared a final moment they both deserved in every capacity, relishing in each other's presence once again.

When it ended, Merrin adjusted his hair to a finer position, and stepped away. "Now watch this," she said, and took the co-pilot seat, preparing herself to enact whatever magik was supposed to hide the ship.

Greez cleared his throat while Cal reaffirmed his spot. "So uh…Merrin…how is this going to work?"

The nightsister did not reply, centering herself where she sat, and Cal could already sense a powerful force concentrating itself upon her. It was no different to when he watched a Jedi meditate, drawing energy from the field around them, focusing it to a clarity that could never be achieved naturally.

"_Sisters_…Mother…lend me your strength," Merrin chanted, which was a change of pace from her usual speech, and almost immediately Cal felt that power increase. "Sisters…_Mother_…lend me your _strength_…" her eyes enflamed in a green glow, and the energy field she had stored expanded from the center of her body and around the ship, just as Greez pulled the _Mantis_ within sensor range. From their viewpoint, not much had changed, but not one Star Destroyer reacted to their movement, and Greez could only look on in awe at a clear sensor ping.

"Whatever she's doing…it's working," Greez confirmed.

With one last look at Merrin, Cal patted the pilot on the shoulder and headed for the back of the _Mantis_. "Let's go, buddy," he huffed to BD-1, who was anxiously planted on his back. Pacing to the aft section where the escape ejection pods were situated, he climbed aboard the ladder and slid down, landing with a grunt of durasteel against his boots. Cere was already there, priming the pods for ignition with the inquisitor hilt in her grip.

She felt different this time around. Almost always her emotions were bottled up and hidden, but with her connection to the Force fully restored, all of her tenacity and hatred was coming to a head.

"Once we're inside, I'll engage their defense level, sabotage their shields and extend the landing pad so the Fury can land, and the Mantis can extract us," she relayed the plan with haste. "You, find the holocron."

"Shouldn't we stick together?" Cal insisted, more out of concern for her sudden change in demeanor.

Cere could see through his question, and only focused on opening her pod until she finally paused, her eyes fixed on many past events that she had struggled to let go. "I feel the pull…" she admitted. "The lives of every child on that list are at stake…whatever happens in there…and whatever you see…" she trailed off, and then shook herself back into focus. "Don't worry about me. Just get it and get out."

"It's going to be alright, Cere," Cal insisted.

"_Closing in on the Fortress_," Greez called in from the intercom, giving Cere the excuse she needed to dismiss his comment.

"It's time," she directed, waving at him to take the second pod across from her. With nothing else he could do, Cal accepted her current disposition with the closing of her pod, and then assumed the proper position into his own.

When the hatch shut, an uneasy quiet befell his hearing, replaced only with the echoing sound of his rampant breathing, and the adjusting servos of BD on his back. The tension within him intensified, resulting in pods of sweat rolling down his face, and with breaths of calm, he closed his eyes and centered himself.

The pod roared as it was jettisoned from the _Mantis_, and Cal was granted the view of the distant stars until the pod hit Nur's atmosphere and the friction-induced orange sullied his view.

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Orbiting Nur**

"Report, _now!_" Vorchenko spat to her deck officer as the _Valkyrie_ continued to slow, only exposing them further.

"Manual brakes have been engaged ma'am!" the replied, panicked. "Someone in Engineering!"

"Override!" she demanded, marching across the command walkway as her entire ship shuddered from the backwards momentum, tempers flaring across the bridge. "Get us moving!"

The central console crackled shimmered, the components looking as if they were experiencing a seizure, before the holoprojector flashed and revealed the image of Admiral Slovis, and the chaos came to a stark silence.

"_Reyna Vorchenko_…" he mocked, a knowing smirk on his face. "_At last, I have you tied at the end of a string_."

The Admiral growled, but quickly reasserted herself, hiding her surprise at the turn of events. "I fail to see your meaning."

He only bared his teeth. "_There will be no escape this time, traitor. Lord Vader has tasked me with exterminating the likes of you once and for all, although he did request, I take you alive._"

Vorchenko shrugged. "Unfortunate. I do hope you intend to make this personal, _Admiral_, and know that whatever traitor aboard my ship cut the engines will pay the price for their treachery."

"_They have played their part,_" he sneered. "_Now I will play mine. Prepare cannons and prep the boarding parties!_"

"Get this man off my bridge," she demanded, and with a quick keystroke, her deck officer cut the communication. "Find whoever engaged the brakes! I want them up here _now!_"

"Yes ma'am!"

"Battle stations!" she continued to berate, and the siren blared through the ship, just as she felt the manual lock disengage and the _Valkyrie_ pick up speed. All three Star Destroyers unleashed their flurry of fighters like a swarm, and the Admiral braced for the coming impact.

"Admiral, shall we deploy fighters?"

Vorchenko shook her head. "No…let him think he has us," she determined, also knowing she'd just send her pilots into a slaughter. She turned to her guards. "Ready the garrison but position them in the choke points we discussed."

Antaria nodded, flicking her head so the other would follow, their boots moving with haste against the command walkway. With the plan in place, Vorchenko braced for impact.

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Exiting Hyperspace**

Trilla's gloved grip was steel against the steering yoke, half of that literal. It was somewhat surreal to be hit with the reality that she had owned this ship for some time, and yet never had much of a chance to stretch its legs or take it for a spin on her own leisure. So much of her time had been spent away from it that Rava had done all the flying, and that had unintentionally become the norm. Piloting was something Trilla had never actively partaken in until she became the Second Sister, but she had been a _very _fast learner.

But those had been mostly fighters…not a craft of this size.

_How hard could it be? Port for left, starboard for right, down for up, and up for down. Simple._

She could do it…she _had_ to.

"I can take control any time," Rava suggested from her port, and earned not even a gaze from Trilla.

"You focus on planting those bugs in their systems. I'll worry about flying," she insisted rather harshly, fed up with the unspoken doubt that wafted through the ship.

"Just stay ready," Xur communicated from the entrance to the cockpit, his attention towards another just as he joined her in the co-pilot seat.

"Where were you?" she asked.

Xur gave her a reassuring look, setting his helmet aside. "Going over the plan one more time. Didn't think you'd need another round."

Trilla smirked. "At least someone has faith in me."

"I always do," he smiled back. "Remember, avoid the space rocks."

"Right, right," Trilla rolled her eyes, just as the hyperspace alarm began to blare, and she felt herself sink into a state of chaos that fell into sharp focus, not allowing the sweaty anticipation to set in. "Pulling out in five," she relayed, reaching up to the lever above, counting down in her head before pushing it forward, and the lines of hyperspace became dots in the sky.

Her senses were overwhelmed by intense conflict, and already she rolled the _Fury_ hard to starboard as TIE fighters screamed overhead. Caught in the middle of a swarm, Trilla flipped to instinct, avoiding danger to assess the field.

"_Shit!_" Xur enunciated. "This was _not_ part of the plan!"

"It is now!" Trilla retorted as she dove under a Star Destroyer, pacing its belly at the incredible speed that the _Fury_ was capable of pulling. Bottom turbolasers groaned as they turned, unleashing the lime-green payload upon them in an unending deluge, a few landing direct hits on her potent shields.

"Accessing targeting," Rava relayed. "Keep me within tightbeam range."

"I'm going to try and raise the Admiral," Xur got to work on his side. "What the _fuck_ happened?!"

"I don't much care about the details as of now!" Trilla remarked, angling the ship vertically to shorten the Star Destroyer's underside target. The massive bolts raked past her view when she finally broke from the belly, and then violently pulled the _Fury_ upwards and over the Star Destroyer's bridge. The wave of assailing fire did not cease as the topside cannons merely picked up the pieces, and Trilla was finding it more difficult to keep her ship unscathed even with the help of the Force. "Rava…"

"There we are," the VI confirmed, and immediately Trilla noticed a much more chaotic firing pattern, the turbocannons going haywire with their targeting scrambled, and some blasts impacted the ships beside them by stroke of luck. While there were less beams to avoid, Trilla quickly noticed that they were much less predictable, and it certainly felt no less safe.

"We need to break for the Fortress," Trilla grit her teeth, pulling the _Fury_ into another roll.

"Planetary scans show the shield is still up," Xur denied. "And we are not leaving until I get word from the Admiral!"

Trilla had certainly taken a liking to the Admiral…and with all she had done not only for Xur, but for her as well, she had an immense amount of respect for her. Yet, their mission was too important to set aside, and if Xur was not willing to let her go, it would jeopardize _all_ of their lives…including the life of his unborn child.

Contemplating the idea of death while nursing her future within her body was intensely terrifying, and she felt her fear infect her in that instant, spreading rampantly like a virus. Her movements slowed, her hesitation increased, and the stray turbolasers were beginning to graze against their shields.

Not _once_ had she ever considered the idea of looking death in the eye, knowing it would not only take her life…

_No._

Her senses flared into an intensity that raged within her, blazing across the Force in the form of a shockwave that purged her hesitation in an instant, converting that fear into fight or flight action. A primal power unlocked within her mind; her muscles becoming more precise, her eyesight sharper, her sensations more direct. She saw events transpire many seconds before they ever happened, charting a course through the hail of fire and towards the _Valkyrie_, trying desperately to avoid the excuses and get Xur the transmission he needed for them to proceed.

Grasping ahold of the throttle with her prosthetic hand, she pulled to a more controllable speed before smashing her thumbs against the fire controls, green bolts flashing against the canvas of space as they ripped through the aft section of helpless TIE fighters that never saw her coming. Her eyes darted to port as one screamed in, and she slammed the throttle into full forward, the _Fury_'s engines roaring at maximum power as they propelled her ship away from the attack. Sensing three fighters turning in pursuit, Trilla pushed forward, drawing them away from the swarm…waiting for the danger sense to chill her.

Trilla's pupils narrowed, and in a violent downward yank, she pulled the _Fury_ up and cut its engines, allowing it to float with its own uninterrupted inertia, before engaging the directional controls to reorient the ship to face backwards, while still traveling in the same direction. Now with direct line of sight of her pursuers, she unleashed her much more devastating cannon fire, ripping through their soft canopies until one knew better than to continue pursuit, pulling up to avoid her superior position. Pushing forward on the throttle, she fought off the intense acceleration as the inertial forces pressed her body against her seat until their momentum had ceased and the _Fury_ blasted in the correct direction, pursuing the final fighter with a ferocity that delved into the Dark Side for but a moment. As a relentless predator, she hounded the final assailant until they too were a cascading ball of flame tumbling through space.

With a breath, she tapped into her serenity to regain her proper focus, and then pulled alongside the _Valkyrie_, which was now being spared the relentless swarm of TIE fighters that were pulling away. Parts of the capital ship were in flames, but for the most part still intact, and it was a wonder how it hadn't been destroyed as of yet.

"I will never doubt your flying ability again, hun," Xur promised, flashing her a slight smile before refocusing on the connection.

Trilla didn't reply…as she could not summon the words to explain what had just happened to her…or how she had done what she had done.

The comm bore static and finally flared to life, and the relief on Xur's face to see Vorchenko alive was evident. "Reyna! What's happening?!"

Battle sirens could be heard through the communication, and Trilla could only hear her voice as she continued to pilot the _Fury_.

"_Admiral Slovis knew I would turn. Someone has sabotaged my engines and as of right now, we have boarding parties advancing upon the bridge. We're holding them at bay as of now, but it is only a matter of time_," the Admiral grimly remarked. "_I suggest you continue to the planet below_."

Trilla could sense his distress. "Absolutely not. I'll send in Raven and Lockdown to get you out."

"_General…_" Vorchenko urged.

"This is not up for debate!" he denied, also aiming his voice towards Trilla before she could even protest. "I already had them prepped as a contingency. They're ready."

_What?_

The Admiral sighed, and more shouting was aroused around her. "_If you insist. The hangar doors are already open. It should be an elementary drop off._"

"We will. Just hang in there," Xur eased, cutting the transmission and rising to his feet. "Think you can swing us in there?"

This was madness, and Trilla knew it. "Xur…don't be foolish," she warned.

"I'm not," he grasped her shoulder with a certainty in his voice she did not expect. "Trust me…"

She did…she always would, and the sigh she emitted was the admittance of that fact. "I'll pull us in."

No words were exchanged as he left the cockpit, preparing to break the news to his men that they would not be accompanying him to the surface of Nur…but she pushed it aside. Her focus had to be on this tricky maneuver.

Rava turned her head. "I may assume control, if you-."

"Not a chance."

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Defensive Perimeter**

"Listen to that water drippin'. Hey stormtrooper, how you handle that? I'd be running to the fresher every couple of minutes."

Cal's head peeked above the water level as he swam to the surface. The hatch had not been hard to find…judging by the fact there was a distinct flashing white light that had guided him there. Unlike Ilum, the water was much more pleasurable than he was used to, as the heat radiating from the ocean floor warmed his body quite nicely.

But he wasn't here for a sauna, and the joking demeanor of the pacing scout trooper commander he observed from the edge of the durasteel walkway was only making him angrier.

"Hey, you hear me?"

His fellow guard at the trapezoid durasteel door shook his head at attention. "Huh? What's that sir?"

"You daydreamin' or is there something wrong with your equipment?"

"All good sir…we turn down our mics in here. The water can be uh…distracting, sir."

_Good to know_.

"Guess that answers that…as you were."

"Sir!"

Cal probed his options, but stealth had never been the plan in the first place, and the actions he could take regarding that were quite impossible. The way forward was the _only_ way, and after these troopers adopted a nonchalant stance within a place of such terror and torture, he felt almost no remorse for bursting in.

With BD above water, Cal grasped the edge of the walkway and vaulted himself up and onto his feet.

"The hell?!" one trooper gasped.

"Hey fellas," Cal greeted, his violet blade blazing to life as he grasped ahold of the commander with a harsh pull, impaling his body with ease as he slammed into the edge of the hilt. With a pained groan, he flopped over and died, while the two ranged troopers panicked and opened fire.

"Sound the alarm! We have a Jedi in ugh-!" his own bolt ripped through his helmet and into his brain, the embrace of death taking him as Cal advanced, slamming a second scout trooper against the durasteel wall before he could warn the others, his bones cracking from the incredible impact. Unclipping his blades, Cal lunged forward and decapitated his push victim, before deflecting the last stray bolt straight back at his attacker, clearing the checkpoint.

With a breath and twist of his blade back together, Cal extinguished the violet hue and turned to the controls. From what he could gather from his immediate findings, this was one of many airlocks around the edge of the Fortress, and if he could keep his movements unseen, a one-man incursion would be very difficult to track in such a massive installation.

But Cal knew better. This place was meant to keep people in…and any chance at remaining unseen were slim to none.

"_Cal, are you there?_" Cere chimed in to his commlink, just as he was about to get moving again.

"Yeah," he answered. "It's good to hear your voice, Cere."

She dismissed his platitude, returning straight to business. "_I've located the holocron. Sending you the location now._"

_That was quick_.

BD beeped on his back as the signal came through, and in a flash his little droid projected the schematics of the base. It was no different from what they had gone over on the _Fury_, and the central heart of the base was highlighted in tan. "Got it," he confirmed. "We're on the move."

The communication died after that, leaving Cal to only wonder how far Cere had already progressed through the Fortress…and how she was faring thus far.

_Bee-dee-deet._

"Yeah, go ahead and slice through this door," he granted, letting the bipedal scutter along until he reached the port, using his scomp link to cut through the door's security and force it open.

On the other side of the door was a long hallway with windows that peered into the ocean around them, as well as a squad of stormtroopers standing in his way.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Orbiting Nur**

Xur held on tight as the _Fury_ swung into the hangar bay of the _Valkyrie_, already occupied by a lone Imperial shuttle, watching the loading ramp descend while Trilla kept the ship elevated.

"Just push to the bridge!" Xur shouted over the loud downdraft. "They won't expect you from behind!"

Raven slid his helmet over his head as Lockdown leaned in, already prepped. "Are you sure about this, General?"  
"Yes!" Xur nodded, just as the _Fury _stabilized. "Do whatever it takes to get her out of there before Slovis has the chance to reach her!"

Raven pounded his helmet. "We will! Good luck, General!"

"Go!" Xur waved, and the two of them leapt from the ramp and into the hangar bay, where they readied their blasters and pressed towards the bridge. Punching the button to raise the ramp, Xur held on as the engines screamed, pulling them out of the generated atmosphere once the ship had been sealed.

He didn't want to give up two men to assault the Fortress, but he couldn't afford to lose the Admiral either, and without her overhead, they'd never be able to pull out…and letting her die because they had miscalculated the Empire's knowledge was not acceptable.

Losing _her_ was not an option either.

Pacing back to the cockpit, he reassumed his spot in the co-pilot's chair, his bitterness clearly present enough to resonate to Trilla, who had her eyes on him from the moment he sat down. Knowing what she'd say, he beat her to it. "It was the only way."

"I know," she admitted…which was _not_ what he expected. "We adapt and make the most of it."

Xur huffed. "Yeah."

With that, Trilla returned her attention back to the viewport, pushing the _Fury _towards Nur at full speed, her eyes intense and focus absolute. Part of him was envious of her ability to hold it together, but he stopped himself before he made the deadly assumption that he was not capable of such an adjustment himself. Reyna would figure out a way to get herself out of her debacle. She always did, and he had to put his faith in her and his men to focus on the current, more pressing task at hand.

"Rava, shield status," Trilla prompted, fighting the chop that came with atmospheric entry.

The VI grimly remarked, "Still operational."

Xur grumbled. "If they don't get them down soon…"

"They _will_," Trilla insisted, keeping her attention forward. "They will."

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Central Shield Control**

Cere's blaster burned at the barrel as she unleashed a barrage of bolts upon the unawares squad of scout and stormtroopers situated around her goal, and many of her Force-guided shots hit home before the retaliation commenced. Activating the spin control on the inquisitor hilt, the crimson blades roared and growled as they continued their circular motion around her, effortlessly preventing any one of those harmful beams from reaching her body. One scout trooper charged, swinging his stun stick with a long wind up, and Cere sidestepped underneath, cutting him down at his torso before unleashing another flurry of bolts. As her attacker's top half collapsed atop his severed legs, that's when Cere could sense the fear roar through each of them. Unintentionally feeding off it, she lurched forward at an incredible speed, the red blades spinning in a sphere of crimson that left behind seared and severed limbs, as well as the smell of death while more Imperials met their demise.

The rest didn't last long against her onslaught, but that's when the alarms began to blare, and in rushed two purge units with charged electrostaffs, their intensity much more potent than the last group. Knowing they could not deflect her blaster, she went on the offensive, letting loose and forcing them to pick their targets as many of her blasts were shaken off by their strong armor.

It was all a ploy.

Holstering her blaster and unleashing a battle roar, her blade clashed with one reeling soldier, while she used the back blade to deflect the swing of the other. Engaging the spin, the mechanism threw off one long enough for Cere to reach out and slam the other into the back durasteel wall, the impact cracking his armor and drawing pained grunts in response. Feeling her unsealed wounds from years ago reopen, her hatred manifested, and the power behind her swings made the trooper's electrostaff virtually useless as the blade cut through the emitter and then subsequently through his heart. With a stark groan, he died in that position while the other attempted to rise to his broken feet, but Cere's saber throw incinerated his brain and consumed his world with black as death took him.

Closing her fist around the hilt as it returned to her grip, Cere extinguished the blade and marched straight for the shield controls, wasting no time getting to work. Each trooper she killed was only one more reminder of what she had suffered in this place…all that pain, all that humiliation, hatred and regret stemmed from the life-scarring torment she had been subjected to in his place, and every bit of damage she created was just rightful retribution

Tearing something apart had never felt so good.

Finding what she was looking for, she activated the control and turned the nob, which was followed by a low, descending tone that shook the entire building. A smile came to her face. "And now…_this_."

With a single press of a button, the entire Fortress rocked as an explosion ripped through one of the outer airlocks, and immediately emergency sirens blared for a water breach.

"Cal, I've disabled the shields on the outer sections of the Fortress," she activated her commlink, making sure to bring down the deflectors atop the building as well. "Flood the base and swim to the central keep."

"_That's a hell of a plan_," Cal remarked.

"We'll meet up inside, hopefully with Eon and Trilla by then. Good luck," she wished, and then severed the connection, maintaining her focus. Igniting her blade, she destroyed the console with an x-cut so her damage could not be undone and marched towards the door where the purge troopers had come from.

She had a lot more pain to collect for.

* * *

_**Fury**_**, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Approach**

Trilla's thoughts as the _Fury_ broke Nur's cloud cover were jumbled, mixed with an arrayed assortment of perverse nostalgia, vile disgust and deep hatred. There was no one, singular word that could possibly describe her strong feelings for this place…and to see it again without the taint of the Dark Side clouding her vision, _poisoning_ her mind…

It was horrifying.

This…this was the graveyard of her past where she lost _everything_…the dark corner of her mind that still echoes of failure, despite all that she had overcome. The Empire…_he_…had broken her here, almost utterly and completely, and if it were not for the singular survival of the construct of her love, she could never imagine putting herself back together. She would have forever remained the Second Sister…an assassin, a slayer, a drone born of pain and unending suffering, and subsequently doomed to spend the rest of her days spreading it to others.

She would have served her purpose, and then been casted aside like a _tool_ easily discarded. No matter how many Jedi she had killed, no matter how many Imperial enemies she crushed under her heel, it would never have been good enough.

Before a disguised zabrak appeared one day, all she ever cared about was survival…now it was different. Now she had something to fight for…something to _live_ for, and even after all the pain she had suffered in this place, it had never completely destroyed her. She had never been strong before…not when all she had known was violence and murder. She was strong _now_, because she fought for something greater than herself…what _truly_ matters.

Trilla Suduri had and always fought for life itself. That is what the Force had granted her when she had the power to seal whole wounds closed in an instant, saving the lives of those marked to die before her. Life was the byproduct of love, because hatred could only destroy, and never create the miracle that now grew within her.

That power she had sacrificed to save the man she loved had granted her a second chance to remake herself…to give back to the galaxy she had taken so much from, and perhaps give it another chance at freedom from the darkness that had consumed it.

The pain dragged at her, but she crawled _back_.

Xur's hand was on her shoulder, his own will feeding her own, and his passionate blue eyes instilled within her a serene ferocity that could never be quelled or rattled.

_You are my world._

She didn't have to say anything…he knew.

Pushing forward on the yoke, the _Fury _fell into a steep dive before she pulled up just above the water level, kicking up mist from the downdraft as she flew under the range of the autocannon towers, their defensive beams screamed past the ship as Trilla fell into a state of total awareness, spotting dangers long before they ever occurred.

"Those shields are down, hun," Xur informed her. "We can take out those cannons."

Trilla banked starboard and pulled up, firing her forward cannons until the turret erupted in a ball of flame from the attack, bringing a pleasurable smile to her face.

"_Outstanding_," she sneered, executing a U-turn and rocketing towards the spire that protruded from the ocean below. Acquiring a lock, she unloaded the entire might of her forward cannons upon the comm tower, leaving it a melting pile of smoldering durasteel as the _Fury _roared around the building, the autocannons' targeting not enough to track the ship's movements. One by one Trilla took them out, waiting for the moment in which the landing pad unfolded from within…and their assault could begin.

Xur chuckled to himself. "They never expected an air assault…otherwise they would've considered installing fighter craft. Fuckin' idiots."

"They relied too much on the blockade," Trilla answered, blowing another cannon to bits and pulling the _Fury_ into another bank turn.

"Well, let's not give them a chance to patch their holes."

Rava's optic flashed. "The landing pad is currently being extended. I suggest we make haste before it automatically closes once again."

Trilla's eyes locked on her target…and sure enough, their pathway into the Fortress was peeking out like a tongue from a mouth.

Cere had done it.

"Rava…_now_ you may take control," she granted, reaching for her helmet and rising to her feet. "Bring us in."

"As if you even had to explain," the VI remarked, just as Xur followed Trilla's movements.

"That was some pretty impressive flying, hun," he praised.

She smiled with gratitude just as her helmet slid over her head, sealed and brought up her HUD. "I had quite the benchmark to live up to."

Xur applied his own with a nod, and then turned towards the cockpit exit. "Petro, Brutis! Let's move!"

They were both already waiting for them by the loading ramp, Brutis wearing his full armor set, while Petro wore an assortment of stolen pieces and a scout trooper helmet, which was slightly amusing.

"Did you scrounge all that up?" she asked, and the teenager only shrugged.

"I kinda felt left out with all the helmets going around."

"Whatever works," Xur affirmed, leading the way as the four of them packed in through the walkway. "Once we're inside, we'll all press for the elevator together, but after we reach the central keep-."

"We'll head below. I know the plan, Eon," Brutis grumbled. "You kill whatever fuckers you need to. We'll blow this piece of shit into oblivion."

"You can count on us, Master Eon," Petro nodded.

Xur scoffed. "Sounds like you two got it down. I like that. Saves time."

"_Opening the ramp_," Rava relayed.

"Don't crash my ship," Trilla warned, to which her VI completely ignored, bringing a smirk to her face.

When the ramp lowered, and Trilla saw that black landing pad once again, she shifted into a mode she hadn't tapped into in a _long_ time…not since Katarr, which may have well been centuries ago.

The assault had begun.

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie**_**, 14 BBY**

**Halls**

Raven creeped beside a hall junction, his DC-17 pistols in hand as he peeked around the corner, only to jerk straight back as he spotted four elite guards at the door of the command turbolift. He and Lockdown had already taken out many lesser stormtroopers along the way, but the closer they came to their mandated goal, the more intense the resistance became.

"Four of them…_shit_," Raven whispered.

"That's the only way forward," Lockdown recalled. "They make the bridge difficult to access on purpose."

The former captain grumbled, probing the tight corridor through his HUD, noticing a side hall they could take to bypass this central pathway, but to reach it would require them to fall into their quarry's line of sight…and neither of them had been trained or bred for stealth.

"Starting to miss Mars a lot more right about now," Raven remarked.

"And a Jedi," Lockdown agreed.

There was movement back the way they came, and they both pointed blasters only to see a tear-sullen face they had not seen in many, _many_ years.

"Antaria?" Lockdown shout whispered as the white-haired echani warrior limped forward and fell to her knees. The commando was quick with his MAHI, already scanning her vitals while Raven knelt beside her.

"Are you alright?" he asked. "What happened?"

Antaria sniffled, her death trooper armor riddled with blaster pock marks. "We tried…assembling the others…but they came too quick. G-got my sister."

Her twin sister, the second death trooper guard that had been enlisted by the Admiral to protect her even when the Empire did not. Raven had known them both, however briefly, and despite their outside appearances, they were both pleasant people to be around…and absolutely lethal in combat.

It was just a shame her twin had to go down like this.

"Hold still," Lockdown eased, pulling a stim from his belt and injecting it into her neck, prompting a groan of relief from her. "That blaster burn along your hip should heal quickly with that."

Antaria slowly picked herself up, rolling out her shoulders and presenting her superior height by a few inches. "Thank you," she said, wiping her face clear of tears and priming her E-11D. "I know another way to the bridge. Follow me."

"Lead the way," Raven nodded with approval.

* * *

Vorchenko straightened her collar just as her unwanted guests marched onto the bridge, shouting curses and commands for all bridge workers to cease operations and raise their hands. Some of them shouted back in response, moving to draw weapons, and she knew that would only be counterproductive.

"Lower your weapons, men," she eased, only to have more blasters trained on her. "Everything is going to be fine."

"Is that so?" Slovis sneered as he revealed himself, flanked by three death troopers. Immediately his slimy presence wafted a foul stench aboard her pristine command deck, and her annoyance at the current debacle hit home in that moment. To think herself to be beaten by such a foe so below her skill in all terms.

It was almost superficial.

The bearded Admiral wasted no time marching up the command walkway, before waving to his men. "Subdue this Azurian whore."

The death troopers pressed past him, and in that moment, her defensive instincts fell into place. Displaying a passive acceptance of her current fate, a holdout blaster slipped into her palm from her sleeve and she lunged forward, driving the barrel underneath one's helmet and into the one weak spot of their armor, pulling the trigger three times until they fell limp. The other two were not as complacent, grabbing ahold of her with their far superior strength and pinning her to her command console, the impact making her spine scream in pain. She attempted to free herself, but she was only met with a hard punch to her nose that drew blood and hazed her vision…but she did not let herself black out…not now.

"You are a difficult skank to wrangle," Slovis glared with a sense of inhuman desire. "I always knew you weren't one of us…and now we see you for what you truly are…a foreign whore who doesn't know her place."

Vorchenko rolled out her neck. "I apologize for not submitting to your…_meek_ personality. All this time I was able to navigate the Empire…planting seeds of deception in every pod I saw fit. Your subpar intelligence was never a match for my machinations."

Slovis growled, wrapping his hands tightly around her neck, his eyes filled with intense hatred. "Subpar intelligence? I sabotaged your ship without your knowledge, and now here you are, gagging and begging for mercy!"

Vorchenko struggled to breathe…her vision fading as her lungs were deprived of oxygen, but had just one, last word to speak to him.

"_Fool_…"

A blaster bolt ripped through the death trooper to her right, and with one free hand, she grasped the Admiral's face and planted both feet on his chest, pushing his hands from her neck as the second death trooper turned, blaster fire raging through the bridge as Slovis' forces were flanked from behind, many of them shot dead before they realized what had happened. Her deck officers drew their own blaster pistols and added to the attack, and after the sudden and absolutely devastating retaliation, Slovis was all that remained.

Rising to his feet in a fit of rage, blasters were pointed, but Vorchenko waved them off. "You _imbecile_. You think I didn't know you tried to slip an unwanted guest aboard my ship?"

His eyes widened.

"_I_ sabotaged my ship!" she revealed, just as Raven, Lockdown and Antaria came up behind him. "I knew you couldn't possibly resist the chance to wrap your disgusting fingers around my neck, and in so you unwittingly fell into my trap…giving me what I had always wanted from the day you first _dared_ to open your mouth against me."

Slovis spat. "If you're so _intelligent_, then prove it to me," raising his fists. "Show your men that you are the superior one!"

Vorchenko smirked. "That was always the plan," she fell into a fighting stance, ready for him to charge.

When Slovis roared and pressed forward, Vorchenko sidestepped past his first swing and plowed her fist into his nose, shattering the cartilage with intense power, before tripping him up with one sweep of her leg. Colliding into the floor in a heap, he wheezed, struggling to rise, only to find that he did not have the strength or will to. With a satisfying breath, Vorchenko held out her hand to Raven, to which he flipped and presented one of his pistols for her to take. The Admiral gasped, crawling along the floor as he looked up to her.

"How…how just once have you managed to defeat _me?_"

Vorchenko primed the blaster. "You tried to defeat a gundark with only claws…and never realized it was twice your size. I must commend you for your…misogynistic tenacity. Clinging to such an archaic practice and way of thinking must've taken an immense will to plant yourself firmly in the past, constantly underestimating the krayt dragon you intended to hunt."

"The Empire is stronger for it," he insisted.

"Is it? Today you have allowed not one but _two_ incursion teams to slip into one of the most secure detention facilities in the galaxy…and it was your arrogance that made it so."

Slovis adopted a look of intense fear, now staring down the barrel of her weapon. "W-wait…no!"

Vorchenko pulled the trigger, and at last the vermin had been cleared from her ledger.

Her vision faded momentarily, and Antaria was there to stabilize her balance before she fell. "Admiral…are you alright?"

With the support, Vorchenko focused herself and regained her footing. "Yes…where's your sister?"

Antaria said nothing, only looking away, and Raven was the one who stepped forward. "Killed in a firefight. We came as fast as we could, Admiral."

Vorchenko sighed. "I see…that is…unfortunate," she sent a silent thank for her service, before snapping back into focus. "We must maintain control of Nur's orbit. They may have deactivated the comms tower below, but we don't know if the others have called for reinforcements yet."

"Why haven't they fired?" Lockdown inquired.

Vorchenko huffed, looking through the viewport at the three Star Destroyers. "If all went as planned, Rava should have planted a virus that will confuse their tracking for some time. They are also in hierarchal chaos, as Slovis was never one to have a competent replacement."

Raven scratched the back of his neck. "So…"

"So we wait…and hope our companions complete their mission in time."

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Central Keep**

"Charge and lock! Hold positions!"

The orange-shoulder held his fist steady as an entire squad of stormtroopers trained their blasters upon the single turbolift door, the quiet ticks of the pod passing each floor only adding to the widespread unease. Sweat poured down faces in single droplets behind helmets, some shaking their heads before it seeped within their eye and enabled a burn. Fingers remained anxiously on triggers, twitching with the desire for movement as their knees flared with discomfort at the prospect of kneeling for a prolonged period. Knowing one-fourth of the base was now underwater did not ease their troubled souls.

Let alone how an incursion team had breached their defenses, lowered their shields and destroyed their comm tower…leaving them without any method of calling for reinforcements. They had no idea who had come to raid a Fortress they had never been trained to protect, only to prevent fugitives from escaping. The explosions were enough to rattle them all, at first simply considering it a drill…and then the reports of their fellow soldiers cut to pieces came in.

This was either a sick drill or an all-out attack…and the turbolift came to a halt.

"Ready!"

Silence followed, and all that remained was their individual breaths in between each second.

Durasteel creaked and screamed as the door was bent in a horrific fashion, and every trooper emitted a gasp with their blasters raised, the anticipation of the coming conflict rising. It looked as if a rabid animal had plowed its horns into the door, dented like a vicious creature begging to be free…and the fear each of them felt only escalated.

Another bang, and the dent only worsened. Someone whimpered in fear, and that was when most of them had the same idea.

The door was plowed open with the third bang, and immediately a light show of gold spun like a fan before them, just as the firing began from each of the stormtroopers. No bolts breached the terrifying blare, and some only seemed to return to their senders through vital parts of their bodies, killing them instantly. Troopers dropped here and there until the spinning stopped, and another figure emerged, followed by a rippling wave that felt like a maglev train plowing into each of them. Knocked off balance, the slaughter began, an electrohammer and vibroblade splattering crimson blood across the hallway as fellow troopers were ripped apart one by one. Tracheas snapped in the grip of a prosthetic hand, and the smell of charred flesh soon followed, stormtroopers cut in two as their screams were cut short by a brutal and unstoppable force.

"Call for backup…oh my…call for fucking backup!" the orange shoulder cried, only to be the next victim of a harsh pull into a lightsaber. None of them stood a chance…not even remotely, and soon there were nothing but echoes left of the squad who had hoped to stop them here.

Trilla felt an innate satisfaction for going on the offensive within this place, as well as the perverse image of the people who guarded this place dead before her. The rush was intense, and it was becoming more and more intoxicating the more Imperials she cut down, just as it did on Kashyyyk.

Only this time she felt no lust for screams, terror and death. It felt more like an obligation; the repaying of a debt long owed to the people who had made her suffer. No stake, no pleasure…only a job that she had to do.

It was odd.

Xur extinguished his blades as the hall was cleared. "We're in. Nice work," he praised, stepping forward whilst activating his commlink. "Cal, status?"

Petro gazed at the trapezoid framed hallway, and Trilla once again felt that enclosing helplessness that the architecture had been built to create…the walls constantly boring into the soul as their claws wrapped around your arms and legs, holding you still. All that remained was the next jolt of pain that would soon come, even as the haze dulled your senses.

Trapped, alone…and the darkness eating away at your essence.

Trilla grimaced, feeling its pull sap her strength, but she denied it. Her will poured out from her eddies, and the claws shriveled and died, burning away under her internal radiance.

"_I've made it to the central keep, and I'm pushing towards the holocron_," Cal called in from Xur's wrist comm, pulling her out of her distant reverie. "_Did you guys make it in?_"

"Yeah. We just breached the turbolift and are near the barracks. We'll meet you as soon as we can," he answered. "Send us the holocron's location."

Trilla paced up beside him as Petro and Brutis waited, going over their own plan for the final time. Xur received the signal within a few minutes, and then projected the location on the holomap. "Ah, of course. Interrogation chamber."

Trilla shivered as its name was emitted from his mouth.

"_It looks like we have to go through the dojo and the holding cells_," Cal surmised. "_If all goes to plan, I'll meet you there._"

"Indeed. Stay safe, Cal," Xur acknowledged, and then cut the connection, turning his attention to Brutis and Petro. "Are the two of you ready?"

Brutis kicked aside a body as he looked down the opposite hall and granted him a slight nod. "See you on the other side. Come on, kid."

Petro nodded and turned to Xur. "Good luck, Xur and Trilla. May the Force be with you."

"And you as well!" he called out as the two of them broke into a jog, disappearing around a bend.

Trilla remained mute, struggling to put the past behind her as she thought she already had, all of the memories of her torment returning in an instant. She felt her bloodied knees as she was dragged through the halls…the sound of the ray shield humming as she slowly went insane, the weight of Cere's betrayal crushing her soul with every moment she let it hang over her head. She remembered the corruption that slowly and painfully corrupted her mind; its dark tentacles destroying all she had loved, tearing out her heart and replacing it with a dark kernel that felt nothing but the pain she was continuously subjected to. The voices had come next, goading her to give in…to take revenge on all who had wronged her…to make others share the unending torture that would forever be a part of her. Men would open her cell and beat her into submission, referring to her in demeaning terms in humiliation, before throwing her to the feet of the monster who had owned her dreams; the subject of all her nightmares…the machine that felt like an unkillable deity.

And yet he wasn't. That man all along had been Anakin Skywalker…not someone who took pleasure in the pain he inflicted, but had become so lost in the darkness that had consumed him, that he felt the only way to quell his own pain was to share it. It was no different that what she had felt when she tormented so many…even now…with all the Imperials she cut down with an ease that felt natural. There was no remorse…and she had forgotten mercy long ago.

She had once felt that submitting to that monster was her only salvation, and only now did she realize that he was no better than her.

No one here was.

Xur wrapped her in a hug without her realizing he had made the move, but pulled away quickly, using more of his Force connection with her to project his own power within her being. "You're not alone. You never were," Xur answered the question she never asked.

She shook her head, huffing through her violet gaze. "We need to keep moving."

His hand gripped her arm tightly, and he pulled her back. "Don't do that. We didn't come all this way just for you to lose yourself now."

Trilla roughly pushed his arm away. "The longer we _stand_ here the greater risk Cere and Kestis are put in," she spat, and then pressed forward, down the hall.

The past had become her enemy, and she was here to _kill_ it.

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Imperial Dojo**

BD's slice through the black durasteel door didn't take long, and neither did Cal's nerves begin to settle in as he paced into the best-lit room he'd yet been in. The swim through the sunken portions of the Fortress was surreal…all the moving parts and internal systems required to keep the place running were intricate, let alone being almost entirely underwater. Being above the surface, so to speak, was a nice change of pace from the heated and soaking ocean…and another chance to tear this place apart was an added bonus.

All the darkness…the hatred…the pain and the anger were rampant within this place, and even the dojo echoed of corruption as he paced through it with his hilt in hand. The red and black Imperial banners were like twisted versions of the banners he saw at the Jedi Temple; a place where he had learned how to hold his lightsaber correctly.

The far door opened at the end of the rectangular fighting space, and Cal ignited his blade.

"Welcome…Cal Kestis," a tall and slim pau'an inquisitor greeted, his stance proper and secure with each step he took. "Oh…how I've been waiting for this moment for some time."

Cal twirled his violet blade as BD compacted himself. "I don't think we've met."

"Ah, no," he shook his head, holding his pose as the door shut behind him. "But you have met some of my students…two or three in particular. The passing of the Ninth Sister was rather unfortunate. I always enjoyed her…_spunk_."

Cal lowered his blade, adopting a more analytical stance as the two combatants began to circle each other. "You trained the Ninth Sister?"

The inquisitor chuckled, his pointed teeth unsettling to say the least. "I trained _all_ of the inquisitors…to a particular degree, I will admit. The one who found you was my best, as a matter of fact."

The red-haired Jedi growled at the mention of her…and the conversion of such a horror into a platitude. "So it was _you_."

"Me?" he shrugged. "Whatever do you mean? All I did was train who I was given. I did not much care for the process. It was above my interests."

Cal scoffed. "_Bullshit_."

"Your belief matters not," the pau'an revealed his durasteel circular hilt, adopting a masterful Form II stance as his crimson blade ignited. "I am the Grand Inquisitor, and you, Cal Kestis, must be dealt with."

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Inquisitor Barracks**

Trilla's run came to a halt as a distinct feeling in the Force called to her, and its power was so strong she could not muster the will to press on. It was difficult to process what she was experiencing, but as her surroundings settled in, she felt an odd sense of familiarity that didn't materialize until her sights fell upon a door to her left.

_Her_ door.

"Trilla," Xur called, once he noticed she was no longer following him. "Come on, we need to keep moving."

She knew he was right, but she couldn't take her eyes off that door, and she could not unhear the call that was dragging her there.

"Go on," she urged. "There's something I have to do. I'll catch up with you."

"No," Xur denied. "If we split up-," he was cut off by the blaring of his commlink. "It's Cere. Cere, what is it?"

Blasterfire could be heard through the connection, and Trilla felt a deep worry manifest within her. "_Xur…I'm sorry but I'm pinned down near the holding cells. If you can send help…please do…and fast!_"

The connection fizzled out, and Trilla's heart sank. "Cere," Xur called. "Cere! Dammit, she needs help."

"Let's move, then," Trilla urged, but he held her back.

"No…I'll go help Cere. You…take care of what it is you need, and we'll meet back as soon as we can."

She wanted to protest, but the call was only getting stronger, and its pull only more violent the longer she let it be. Cere was in trouble…but something was telling her this was more important than all of that.

"Alright…" she sighed. "Hurry, please."

"I will," he promised, holding their helmeted heads together. "I love you."

"I love you too," she grasped his upper arm tightly, just before he turned and ran off, wrenching her heart slightly to see him go.

Now she felt an urge to wrap this up quickly.

Approaching the door as the whine persisted, she slowly reached out with her defenses raised, pulling at the door's mechanism with a firm grip in the Force. Once it slid open, however…the whining stopped…and all she was left with was her old quarters, just as she had left them.

_Déjà vu._

There were so many memories from this place…how much time she had spent when she was accumulating data on her current target. Mostly she had spent her days as the Second Sister on various capital ships, traveling the galaxy with an escort from time to time.

Her fingers glided along the plain, durasteel desk, her fingertips picking up dust as she paced through. The bed was just as she remembered it…boring, uncomfortable and effortless. Nothing at all like the bed she now shared with Xur on the _Fury_. That one was warm…_inviting_.

Safe.

She hated this place.

In a sudden fit of rage, she ignited her blade and cut the desk down at the legs, letting it collapse in a heap before sticking her blade out to the mattress…holding it against the fabric until it caught fire. Soon the entire room was ablaze, and she bathed in its fire, feeling the repressed memories free themselves from the horrid confines of her mind.

Through the flames…she saw herself…that same spectre in her Jedi robes, only this one beaten, battered, bruised and bloodied…and yet still standing. The spectre walked through the flames and towards her, limping as she did so, her once beautiful Jedi robes ripped and torn in various places…singed in others.

This…this was what she had seen in her reflection the day she had broken.

Her spectre approached, her eyes amber and corrupted, but her face was sad…filled with despair; regret for what she had become.

Trilla instinctually reached out and corralled that spectre of herself into her arms. They cried, sobs of anguish prevalent as she hushed them silent, soothingly rubbing their back with the care of a mother. When she pulled away, looking upon her ruined reflection, the epitome of her absolute lowest point, Trilla unhinged her helmet and revealed her face. Her reflection looked upon her longingly, and eventually the amber glow in her eyes faded.

Trilla pulled her reflection's matted hair from her eyes. "It's going to be alright," she promised.

Her spectre looked back and smiled. "I know."

With that, she faded away, and Trilla was left with nothing but the smoke and flames she had created.

One tear rolled down her face…just before she reapplied her helmet and moved forward into the future.

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Imperial Dojo**

Cal's own defense was great, but the quick cuts and counterattacks made by the Grand Inquisitor were devastating and precise, very reminiscent of Trilla's masterful use of Form II dueling. He found himself having to fall back from time to time, or even pick himself back up after being forced to ground by a harsh shove or a push with an outstretched hand. That being said, the Grand Inquisitor's adeptness in the Force itself was not strikingly powerful; a dim dwarf star in comparison to the blue-violet giant that was Xur Eon. Even Cal felt his own connection to be more impressive, his pushes more devastating in terms of raw power when he needed spacing to regain the attacking turn.

None of that truly mattered in the grand scheme, as the Grand Inquisitor was certainly a more impressive duelist than he.

Falling into a saber lock, Cal grit his teeth as the Grand Inquisitor held his swing at bay with only one hand on his blade. "Your forms are mixed…unorthodox," the pau'an noted. "Impressive, may I say."

Cal ignored him. He wished to share no compliments with such a vile being. Untwisting his saber, he engaged with both blades, and the sudden turn forced the Grand Inquisitor to readjust his tactic, igniting his second blade to shore up his fleeting defenses as Cal barraged them. The Jedi threw in a variation of Form IV, planting his foot into the pau'an's stomach and flipping over him, swinging both blades with enough power to make him stagger as he blocked, allowing Cal to land a burning mark on his armored shoulder. Grunting, the Grand Inquisitor flipped back, gaining space as he shook off the hit he did not expect to take.

"You know," Cal noted, twisting his hilt back together. "Trilla's better than you."

The Grand Inquisitor spat, flipping forward his circular tracks. "Do not insult me. The Second Sister may have been my greatest student, but she was never a match for the likes of _me_."

The overlooking glass cracked and shattered catastrophically, forcing both combatants to shield themselves from the glass as two purge trooper units flopped onto the grated flooring. Seeing them to be already dead, Cal looked up to see Trilla land from the overlook, the shattered glass cascading around her as it ricocheted off her cape. Rising to her full and impressive height, she removed her helmet and tossed it aside, revealing the slick black hair he remembered through that ray shield after their duel on Zeffo.

Her gold blades ignited, her own tracks flipping forward. "So sure…are you?"

The Grand Inquisitor grimaced, and Cal knew that meant the pau'an knew he was outmatched against the two of them at once. They both advanced upon the inquisitor, twirling their blades in intimidating fashion as he paced back, spinning his hilt in a fan of crimson.

"Scared, are we?" Trilla taunted, coming alongside Cal as they marched his way. "How unfortunate that now I am free of my chains, and you will not face me."

"I understand where I am at a disadvantage, my dear," he admitted, tapping a control on his wrist. Behind where he stood, a trap door opened and allowed him to slip away from view, the door shutting tightly before Trilla or Cal could reach it. In fierce frustration, Trilla slammed her foot on the door and emitted a harsh growl.

Cal huffed. "Guess we'll get him another time."

Before Trilla could comment, all doors of the dojo opened, and in flooded a squad of purge troopers with the electric weapons primed and sizzling. Encircled, Trilla and Cal found themselves back to back against the lot of them, and without anywhere else to go, their blades were all that stood between them and capture once again.

Neither of them had _any_ intention of remaining here alive.

It was little more than a quiet serenity in the Force that granted them a moment of clarity, and despite the entire squad of troopers bearing down upon them, neither of them panicked. They spotted their openings as one, relaying them back to each other in a moment of thought…and almost like a primal instinct, they saw what had to be done.

One purge trooper boot shifted, and Trilla reached out, her grip ripping the man off his feet and into the air, while her prosthetic arm ripped her spinning saber around the group, the gold blades cutting down some unawares while the smarter ones either deflected the attack or ducked beneath. Dropping the decapitated trooper and feeling her hilt clap back into her hand, Trilla advanced as Cal pressed in the opposite direction, his dual blades ripping through defenses before splitting his saber, and the violet blur blinding his assailants as his two-handed ferocity ensued, some meeting a grim fate as the blade sliced through staffs at the middle and subsequently through torsos and chests. Flipping back to not overextend, Cal pushed both hands forward to unleash a howling push that downed the front line and left the back staggering, while Trilla attempted something similar, although scoring more kills thus far.

"It appears your training is over," Trilla remarked, spinning her blade in a defensive pose while Cal held off his side.

"I think _everyone's_ training is over," he scoffed, batting away another staff while deflecting another.

One trooper charged at Trilla with his fist clocked back, but a quick jerk of her head avoided his swing, and she retaliated with a swing with her prosthetic that hit home, feeling his jaw dislocate from the much harder impact, and then ending his life with a precise stab.

After dealing with more back to back, they both flipped towards the front doorway, and Cal was quick to issue BD the order. "Get this door open, buddy!"

The bipedal hopped from his back and scuttled to the port link while Trilla defended his path, letting the full spin of her blade keep any units from advancing. Once his scomp link twisted and the door opened, they jumped through and forced it shut with violent holds in the Force, leaving the purge units to hopelessly slam their fists into it like madmen. Cal lunged forward and used his blade to melt the sides shut, and then turned to Trilla.

"The holocron is just ahead…beyond these holding cells," he reminded her. Her nod was stoic, as her eyes were fixed on the ray shielded hexagon shaped cells that lined the walls. Cal could only feel sympathy for her as he finished the cut, leaving the troopers to figure out another way to force it open. "I'm sorry we had to come back here."

Trilla sighed, pulling her attention away from the sight. "You said the holocron was in the Interrogation Chamber."

He nodded. "I'm supposed to meet Cere here, and with this back guard of troopers trying to press forward…I'm going to try to hold them off for you."

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I can't leave Cere hanging. Not in this situation," he reiterated. "And honestly…you're better equipped to take on Effa than I am."

Trilla's brow arched momentarily, but it quickly faded. "Cal…"

"You can do it, Trilla," he insisted, grasping her shoulder tightly. "You've come this far…don't stop now."

The brunette sighed, but Cal could sense that his words were correct in her mind as well. There was more at stake than just the holocron. If Trilla was to truly be free of the darkness within…she had to face what waited for them inside that terrible place.

Grasping his hand on her shoulder, she nodded. "Thank you, Cal Kestis."

He nodded with full confidence, and once she began to descend the stairs, his attention already returned to the door. "Now, BD…let's see what we can do about this."

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Reactor Maintenance Halls **

Brutis marched through the wave of blasterfire that advanced upon him, bolts dissipating off his armor as his TL-50 screeched with a high concentration of retaliatory bolts that ripped through the weak white armor of the stormtroopers in his path. Charging forward in the tight corridor, he slung over his repeater and roared, clearing a path forward with his massive and devastating electrohammer. The final stormtrooper had the unfortunate pleasure of being his battering ram through the grate at the end of the passage, grabbing ahold of the man with his massive hands and plowing him head-first through the durasteel. Jumping out into the hall, Brutis heaved and slammed his hammer into the man's head, killing him instantly.

Taking a breath and wiping the blood off his chest armor, he slung his hammer over his shoulder and waited. "Any time now, kid."

Almost on cue, a stormtrooper's scream sounded as he fell through the ceiling grate, and Petro followed through, sinking his vibroblade deep in the man's throat. His gurgling was then silenced by a blaster bolt through his head via Petro's side pistol.

"Not bad," Brutis commented as Petro pulled his blade free. "You remembered to not give him any time to react."

Petro huffed through his helmet, its white ruined by dried blood. "I know it took a few times, but yeah, I finally did."

Truthfully, he didn't expect him to make it through the unknown area so quickly, and it showed that his adaptation to the situation was growing, but he'd already given him enough praise this time around. Complacency was dangerous, especially here, and he needed him on his toes at all times.

The former youngling swung his blade through the air to rid it of the wet crimson. "So, where to now?"

They were nearly there. The shortcuts they had taken through the pair of maintenance tunnels did exactly what Brutis had intended, and he could detect the rumblings of the advanced machinery nearby within the ground that he walked. As the familiar setting established itself, he paced the hall and turned the corner, reaching the central pit of the entire Fortress.

Through the massive door and radioactivity warnings was the massive fusion accelerator, its tubes and machinery funneling intense heat into a highly intense reaction contained within a central module.

"_Wow_," Petro gasped, just as the two of them paced through the doorway. "This thing powers the entire Fortress?"

"Yeah," Brutis nodded. "Now we just need to figure out how to get it to overheat."

He was never a scientist, and he certainly was not much qualified to know the inner workings of this machine, but he figured if he cut a few wires, then the intricate design would succumb to a fatal flaw in time.

"It's a fusion reaction, right?" Petro asked, pacing up to the control panel and giving it a look. "If I remember correctly, it requires nearly the heat of a star to have that occur, and no material has a melting point above that. The only way they could possibly contain it would be through a coolant of some kind."

Brutis caught on. "So, if we cut off the coolant…"

"The Empire swims laps on the surface of a star."

The former purge trooper smirked behind his helmet. "Get to work then. In the meantime I'll…" he was cut off by his natural instincts, and when he turned, two massive guard droids were marching their way, their piercing red eyes and dark tones of communication their most striking features. Brutis growled and drew his hammer, charging it as the mechanical terrors revealed wrist large wrist blades from their gauntlets.

"Kid, whatever you need to do…figure it out quickly."

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Interrogation Chamber**

There were no words that could describe what Trilla felt once the door to her most terrifying memory opened, revealing the intense heat that radiated from below…and the chair that remained centered in the vault-like room. Wires dangled from above that powered the Dark Lord's terrible machine, created solely to induce intense suffering within any who were unfortunate enough to find themselves within its embrace.

She had been one of those people.

At the time she had asked herself why so many times it almost became an obsession. Why her? She was simply a girl who could manipulate the Force in various ways, and because of that, she had been made to suffer, scream and subsequently break into an animal who knew nothing but destruction.

That time had long passed.

Her boots stopped atop a specific spot on the retractable flooring that resonated, and when she looked up, it felt as if roles had been reversed momentarily, peering into the eyes of the man who had destroyed who she once was…and threw someone else within. Only then did she ask herself how she ever managed to overcome all she had been subjected to.

Only then did she realize that none of that mattered…only that she had.

Stepping out of that spot, she felt herself released from her past like a serpent shedding its skin, and new resolve solidified itself. Approaching the chair control, she ran her hand along its surface, and closed her fist. "You were never the quiet one."

Trilla slowly turned, and standing behind her was Effa Azulia, the dirty blonde adopting a look of mild rage and disappointment.

"It was worth a shot," she admitted. "At least I got a little closer than usual."

"Not close enough," Trilla remarked, pacing towards her, only to see the inquisitor circle her movements.

Effa grumbled. "I'll be honest…I was hoping that boy toy Cal Kestis would be the one to show…but instead I have you. Why?"

Trilla continued her pace. "I guess I surmised I may be able to talk some sense into you."

That made her scoff into slight laughter. "_Talk some sense_. Ah, Sister, the time for talking is unfortunately long gone. You see…I _knew_ your band of misfits couldn't resist the urge to launch an all-or-nothing assault on your own home…I just never expected the brutal tenacity that you all have shown."

The brunette shrugged. "Yes…it appears that once again the Empire has fallen prey to underestimation of the tenacity of their enemies. Complacency has its way of worming into those who believe that having a larger weapon makes them invincible."

"Ah, but it does elicit a great deal of _fear_," she countered. "Something you have managed to hide _very _well."

Trilla chuckled. "You think I have _any_ degree of fear towards you?"

"Of course not. I would never expect such wishful thinking in the first place…but in your arrogance, you have granted my Master the opportunity he has been searching for all this time."

Trilla found herself ending her pace at the door she had entered from, looking back upon Effa with the backdrop of that chair. "What opportunity?"

Effa's laugh became maniacal for a moment. "The moment is upon us…it's right there and you just can't see it!" she madly paced away; her eyes turned upwards. "All he's _ever_ wanted is _him_…_here_…in this spot…vulnerable…_broken_. You have granted Lord Vader more than you could _possibly_ know."

Her annoyance bristled, and Trilla's teeth grit. "It's _over!_ It's not too late for you to come back."

"_Come back…_" she mocked. "Don't you get it by now, Trilla? _This_ is where I belong. _This_ is where my _eternal_ loyalties lie, and it's where you belong as well."

Trilla emphatically shook her head. "I will _never_ be his slave _again_. Not like _you_."

"I am _not_ his slave!" Effa denied, her eyes searing amber. "I am his student, protégé, apprentice…_learner_…whichever you prefer. I have been since the beginning…and what he desires…he shall receive."

Trilla shifted her stance. "And what is that?"

Effa's deep growl drooled of hatred as she emitted the words, and her crimson blade roared with its ignition. "Your head at Eon's feet…just as he finally _breaks_."

Something within her snapped at the very image she described. Effa not only wanted to harm the man she loved…but she wanted to _murder_ the unborn child growing within her. Serenity gave way to instinct, and she felt that darkness return with a terrible roar.

Trilla released her cape and tossed it aside, reaching for her hilt and igniting the two gold blades with a spin before falling into her ready stance. "You're insane, Effa, and I will not allow you to continue your reckless destruction."

The inquisitor roared. "_Die_, traitor!"

Effa's rage was so potent that Trilla felt it in her first deflection, the inquisitor's barrage of Form VI devastating in its own right, desperately trying to blow her over in the first exchange. Trilla was not surprised by its use, however, and utilized her impressive techniques to establish superior footwork to counter the immense strength Effa was displaying. One she was set, she felt her leverage push back, her superior height and length assisting in that endeavor as she took the offensive turn, utilizing a more powerful string of Form IV Ataru that did not seem to catch her opponent off guard, but it was never meant to. Once her turn ended, she ceded back to Effa, who roared as she spun her blade in between swings, still trying to blow her over with raw power.

If only she knew what kind of strength Xur could project. This was but cosmic dust compared to what she had experienced against him.

Falling into a saber lock with Trilla on her back heel, Effa leaned towards the blades, never minding the flares that burned her skin. "Do you really think you can beat me _here?!_"

"You said it yourself, Effa," Trilla grunted. "This is _our_ home."

"Indeed," she conceded, pushing off her blade and outstretching both hands into a powerful push that Trilla halted with a force barrier, reserving the effects to only sliding back with perfect balance.

"Anger burns bright…but it fizzles out quickly," Trilla remarked, twirling her blade. "A powerful lesson you have yet to learn."

Effa spat as they circled each other quickly. "You have your blasted self-righteousness back, I see. I always _hated_ that about you."

"Fuck righteousness," she waved off. "It's just fact. What has all this anger ever amounted to? When was the last time you succeeded in something of your own efforts?"

"How about taking this?" she sneered, revealing the green holocron from her back pouch, drawing Trilla's full attention. "While you were all mourning the death of a worthless clone trooper, I stole it right out from under your new Jedi friend," she then placed it back in her pouch and held her blade at the ready. "And when I'm done with you, he'll be next…along with your precious _master_."

Trilla growled and fazed forward, swinging in a cross chop that Effa ducked beneath, kicking her exposed chest. The impact winded her, but the brunette recovered quickly to deflect Effa's attacks with precision until the lack of air in her lungs weakened her stance, and a powerful swing knocked her off balance. Taking the chance, Effa outstretched her hand, closing the woman's throat and throwing her across the chamber, landing in a hard heap against the durasteel floor.

Effa dragged her blade against the floor as she approached. "Don't run out of breath now. I'd hate to see you die in such a pitiful fashion."

Flipping to her feet in an acrobatic fashion, Trilla summoned a large amount of force energy into her prosthetic fist before slamming it into the ground, and the shockwave that followed knocked Effa off her feet in a pained grunt. Landing a fair distance away, she cartwheeled back to a stand, only to barely stop Trilla's blindingly quick advance. That was when Trilla went on an acrobatic Form IV assault that Effa was not ready for, kicking her twice mid-air before unleashing a flurry of cuts from both blades that had her backpedaling…and landing a mark on Effa's armored thigh. The hit stunned her more than it hurt, and Trilla used that chance to blow her over with a one-handed force push, skidding along the rough surface.

Trilla heaved. "You've spent so much of your time running that you've forgotten to improve yourself in the art of a duel," she remarked, pacing forward. "Has the master not trained his apprentice?"

Effa slowly picked herself up, still with a grin on her face. "I'm glad you noticed…but believe me, old friend, you have yet to see the full extent of my power."

The brunette spread her arms. "I'm right here."

Effa took that taunt, holstering her hilt and charging force energy directly at her feet, and in the next instant she rocketed forward at a speed nearly rivaling her own, and the unexpected use of that power caught her off guard. Her gloved hand wrapped around Trilla's neck, and her victim fell to her knees as she used her second to rip into her force essence and drain it from her body. It was a universal power that was quite similar to the horrifying and devastating use of Death Field that she once could conjure, but only hurt physically more than destroy supernaturally. She held back a scream as the pain was immense, but it was nothing worse than she'd experienced before, and through that suffering, her hatred fueled her strength as she grabbed ahold of Effa's outstretched hand with her prosthetic, using the mechanized strength to slam her own power back into her. The feedback loop discharged, resulting in a harsh scream from Effa as they both collapsed from the exchange, an echoing wave in the Force the only sound that remained.

Trilla's body felt as if it had been sapped of its reserve energy, and it was impossible not to move without feeling a measurable amount of pain. Nevertheless, she pressed on, forcing herself to rise to her knees and subsequently her feet as she heaved, calling her blade back into her grip. With its violent ignition, Effa stumbled back, visibly spent, and her rage at its absolute peak.

"You will _never_ escape this place alive, Trilla," Effa vowed, her hilt igniting once again. "_None_ of you will."

Trilla shook her head. "This…_ends_…now."

Time grinded to a halt as their stances solidified. Echoes of the past were prevalent, both former Jedi…whose friendship had even somewhat survived the terrible trauma they both endured. It was potent…_strong_…but most of all, still alive. Trilla could sense it, even if Effa could not, but the love they once shared had not yet been stripped away.

_There's still a way._

Relinquishing her anger in that moment, Trilla's eyes focused clearly and absolutely.

Effa screamed, slashing twice into perfect blocks that Trilla executed, and once the inquisitor used the other end of her blade for the third, Trilla swung through her hilt, severing it in two, before landing two deep cuts on each thigh. The blonde let out an anguished cry and fell to her knees before the chair…her hilt severed and legs no longer able to support her weight. With her hand outstretched, the holocron flew straight into her grip, free of the Empire's grasp at last.

Their fight was finally over.

As Trilla extinguished her blade, the sound of pounding footsteps came from behind, as well as a shout from Cal Kestis, "Trilla!" only to halt once he saw Effa's broken and shattered state kneeling before them. Trilla never relinquished her gaze from the inquisitor, and instead passed the holocron to the red-headed Jedi.

"Try not to lose it this time," she said, and Cal slowly accepted it into his care, while still keeping his eyes on Effa. "Go…get out of here."

Cal reared back. "What? I'm not leaving you here alone!"

_Doop-pree!_

Trilla grimaced with their respectable pleas but held firm. "This place will be ashes, and you now hold the key to the next generation of Jedi," she instilled upon him her fierce eyes, while also projecting soft urgency. "Cal…find Cere…and _go_."

He didn't like her idea, but she could tell he nonetheless understood the practicality of it all, eventually nodding his head in acceptance. "I'd better see you behind me."

"_Go_," she urged more firmly this time, pushing him away. Just as he began to pace away, however…the chilling cold she remembered shivered down her spine.

Effa looked up to Trilla as an above platform shifted, white smoke pouring from its crevice. "We…we're all going to burn, Trilla," she heaved, the inquisitor's fear becoming apparent. "This is the day we _die_."

Trilla felt the cold freeze her body into place just as before, planting her feet where she stood…and her breathing became sharp, made difficult by the trembling that came. The fear she felt…it could not be wrangled…it could not be controlled. It was inbred…_forever_.

And she felt the cauldron of her will ignite.

When Darth Vader looked down upon her from his perch, her trembling faded entirely, and she looked up to that mechanical monster with such intensity that any other being would've backed down under its gaze.

"That doesn't look good," Cal noted, backing away.

His terrifying breathing persisted as he landed with a sharp thud against the durasteel surface, rumbling the entire Fortress as Trilla faced him with her blade ignited, showing absolute defiance against the subject of all her worst nightmares.

Effa mumbled to herself, unable to stand, move, or anything for that matter. It was a jumbled array of words as her mind finally shattered, but the most prevalent phrase was: "I'm sorry…_Anakin_."

Vader rumbled as he brandished his hilt. "Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him."

It was only then that Trilla saw Effa's expression return to that she once knew…the innocent woman whose care for others knew no bounds…and whose love for one man was so pure, it left echoes behind wherever she walked.

"You have failed me, inquisitor."

She gasped, looking up to Trilla as Vader's blade ignited. "Avenge him."

Even in her final moments…she thought of him.

Trilla only grimaced in utter pain as Effa's life was extinguished before her, knowing there was nothing she could do to save the woman whose love had destroyed her…a woman who had sold her soul to the devil…and lost.

"Where is he?" Vader growled, stepping over Effa's bisected body, blade held at his side as he heartlessly showed no remorse for the woman he had ruthlessly cut down. Trilla's rage was rampant, but she forced it back to stare back his way with clear vision.

"You will find out soon enough," she spat, falling into a ready stance.

Cal grimaced from behind as Vader began to march. "Trilla…what the hell do we do?"

"I told you to _run_…now run!" she roared, leaping forward, only to feel her throat close and her body suspend above. Cal gagged alongside her as Vader held them both in place, pulling them both close with the contraction of his arm.

"You _will not_ escape," he declared.

As air was kept from her lungs, Trilla frantically looked around for any way to free them, and her eyes locked on a weak part of machinery held by the ceiling above. Subtly, she twisted her hand and pulled the cylinder free from behind Vader's view, but he reacted with his second hand, halting it in place. With the strain upon him, Vader threw them both out of the chamber, tumbling through the closing doorway. Stopping just before the platform ended into a perilous drop, Trilla gasped as Vader gripped the closing door so violently with the force that it dented, jamming it upwards, before outstretching both arms to rip whole panels from the flooring around him…sending the heavy onslaught their way.

Heavy boots slammed in front of her, and in a sudden surge in the force, the panels were halted mid-air…and Xur Eon grunted with both hands held out before him. Grimacing under the heavy strain required to halt Vader's attack, he groaned, "Both of you…go!" he roared, pushing them all back in a wave of durasteel that Vader merely casted aside with a wave of his hand. Leaping through the air with both orange blades ignited, Xur clashed with the Dark Lord of the Sith, his grunts of intense effort apparent.

Trilla's eyes widened as she moved to help him, but Cal grasped her gauntlet. "Trilla, we can't! We have to go _now!_"

It almost made her cry, forcing herself to rip her gaze from him, but Cal was righter than ever. Sniffling and jogging to the bridge, she followed Cal Kestis in his effort to flee from the two giants colliding.

_Please come back to me…darling._

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Fusion Accelerator **

Brutis dropped his cracked helmet, kicking it aside as his fist collided into another fellow purge unit, knocking him to the ground with his intense power before executing him where he lay with his pistol. Both droids crackled from the places in which his hammer had torn them apart, lying dead on each side of him as wave after wave of Imperial troopers marched to him…and died all the same. He'd come this far…and now that he could taste the death of the place he so despised…_none_ would rob him of this victory.

"Come on, kid!" he shouted, swinging his hammer into two men before suffering another blast to his shoulder that became another pock mark. Petro was climbing above, dangling from his grip as he drew his vibroblade and slashed through the final coolant tube. It noodled and spasmed as the fluids were shot from its mouth, and Petro dropped to the floor with a grunt, assisting Brutis in his defensive efforts at last.

Red lights and sirens blared as the core destabilization began…the heat of the room already beginning to rise.

"We need to go!" Petro urged. "We only have twenty minutes until it blows!"

Brutis roared as the last man died in horrible fashion, and through his bloodied eyes, he saw only more coming…desperately trying to reach him and stop the meltdown that would vaporize them all. There was not enough time to breach through them and escape…and he couldn't reach the ladder above…not without letting them halt the progress he'd made.

The choice was obvious, and there was no hesitation.

"You're going to leave, kid," Brutis grumbled. "And I'm going to stay."

"What?!" Petro gasped. "You're crazy! I'm staying with you! We'll make it out of here together!"

"It's not in the cards, Petro," Brutis denied, grabbing ahold of him with his massive hands, and then heaving him up to the shaft's ladder above, that which Petro managed to grab. "Go! Get out of here!" he yelled, batting away another stormtrooper with his hammer.

"I can't leave you!" Petro cried.

"Don't be like me!" Brutis urged, continuing to fight. "Don't let your hatred consume you! Go! Live! Be better!"

No tears came from the young man, but he looked down upon the mentor he never asked for and tipped his head with sad eyes. "Thank you…for everything!"

"Get out of here, you skug!" he growled, knocking down another.

Petro swallowed and began to climb, leaving Brutis alone against an army of men.

"Come on you fuckers…come and get it."

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Fortress Citadel**

Xur grunted as he backed up along the bridge to the Interrogation Chamber, twirling his blades as Vader heaved, his slashes precise and devastatingly powerful. Without his natural affinity to project his strength beyond super-human levels, he could never imagine standing a chance against the Dark Lord's attacks. Instead, he merely managed, holding him off where he could, but hardly ever finding a chance to go on the offensive. Vader looked to have no intention of letting up for a moment, and the zabrak knew he'd have to try something insane just to get himself back in the fight.

Riding Vader's powerful swing, Xur flipped and let the impact project him through the air, firing a burst of Force Lightning that was merely batted away as he landed a measurable distance away.

The zabrak took a chance to breathe, already fairing better than he had on Ordo Eris, but he was just slowing him down at this rate…not really _fighting_ him.

"You should have joined me when I offered you the chance, Eon," Vader grumbled, holding his blade out in front as he marched forward. "Your skills are wasted serving a pointless resistance to the inevitable."

Xur huffed. "You know I get it," he admitted. "The Jedi were flawed…and maybe they did have it wrong…but that doesn't justify all you've done! So much suffering…so much slaughter! What have you to show for it? What have you to gain?"

"Nothing," Vader shook his head. "The Dark Side will consume the galaxy, and the Empire will be there to see it through."

"Is that what you want?" he questioned. "To be _forgotten?_ Where's the legacy in that?"

"My master's will is all that matters," Vader approached, his blade now held at his side. "He commands your death, and he shall receive it."

Xur scoffed. "You're no different than any other sorry bastard in this place. A lap dog to bend over for the Emperor whenever he needs his damn feet scrubbed."

"Enough," Vader growled, reaching out and ripping the bridge from its foundation, making Xur stumble as it shook in his grip. "Your continued resistance to Imperial justice ends here!"

The zabrak looked around, thinking quickly as he turned and ran towards the other end of the bridge, leaping with all his might as Vader relinquished his hold. His stomach lurched into his lungs once the weightlessness of falling kicked in, and he gasped as his hands screamed under the strain of hanging by the broken edge of the bridge. Groaning as he clambered up, he flipped to his feet to look across the way…but Vader was gone.

Danger sense jolted him into action as he rolled away, the Dark Lord plunging his saber into the ground as he landed from above, and Xur used another blast of Force lightning to hold him off. Vader blocked the attack with his blade, raising his hand to reinforce his defense behind the crimson beam. Xur let the lightning flow through him, just as his mother had taught him, but even at full power Vader still kept coming. Dropping the attack, Xur reignited his blades and swung both with a roar, and only then did Vader grunt with effort to hold it back. Feeling a chanced to push forward, Xur unleashed a Form VII attack string, a form Vader was not quite accustomed to, but adjusted incredibly quickly as his defenses held back the zabrak's constant barrage that it unleashed.

Parrying Xur's last cut, Vader swung heavily, and his deflection knocked him to his knees, before Xur desperately stopped the downward hammer with both of his blades crossed. His back cried for a reprieve, but he poured all of his energy into his arms, shoring up his impressive defenses for what he was up against. Vader only bore down upon him, his anger prevalent as the chance to vanquish the zabrak came within reach.

The Dark Lord raised to hammer again, but Xur was ready for it, unleashing that power through a bone-shattering Force push that merely made Vader stumble backwards for a moment, and then quickly block Xur's retaliation. After two quick blocks, Vader reached out and pushed Xur over the edge, watching him fall into oblivion with the cold stare of a monster who had won.

Sirens blared as the entire Fortress rumbled and shook, taking Vader's attention away. Knowing the holocron was escaping his grasp, he marched into action…never seeing Xur who had grasped ahold of an outcrop in the wall from where he fell.

Breathing heavily as he shook off his near death, Xur looked back up from where he fell…and began to climb.

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Tower Transit Passage**

Trilla and Cal sprinted at full speed once the turbolift door opened, moving as quickly as possible to escape the wrath of Darth Vader. Trilla had fought off tears the entire ride up, but she knew she had to remain vigilant if her child was to survive…and if more children were to be spared the fate she had to endure.

"I think we lost him," Cal huffed, keeping up just behind her as they slowed their run, turning a corner as the windows displayed the surrounding ocean once again.

"Do _not_ underestimate his power, Cal," she warned, picking up the pace again, but then halting violently once a passing turbolift door opened, her blade ignited.

Out walked Petro, his helmet long relinquished and his eyes red from tears. "Trilla…Cal!" he shouted.

Her eyes widened as she extinguished her blade. "Petro…what happened?"

He sniveled, shaking his head. "Brutis…he's staying…to make sure this place blows."

"What?!" Trilla gasped.

"He told me to go…and I listened," Petro explained, wiping his face clear. "He told me to be better than he was."

She wanted to deny it…but there was nothing they could do about it now. All she felt was sorrow for the man she had tormented long enough…perhaps even ruined…and now was the man who would save them from ever seeing this place again. He'd die a hero…even if he didn't want to be one…and Trilla would be sure his name is remembered in a fashion he deserved.

With a deep exhale, she grasped his shoulder. "Come on…we need to go."

Cal flinched as his commlink blared. "Greez…I'm here. We're heading to the surface…what's left of us."

Trilla's eyes widened. "Where's Cere?"

"Cere's finding her own way," Cal informed her. "She told me she would meet us at the surface."

Searching the Force, Trilla latched onto the long-tarnished master-apprentice bond she had shared, and through the echoes of the shattered past, she felt Cere still alive…a flicker in the dark forest.

"We'll meet you there, got it," Cal cut the transmission, and then ushered them to follow. "Let's go."

The three of them sprinted as fast as they could, and Trilla desperately searched for Xur in the Force…but she felt nothing…_nothing_ at all. Still, she held out hope that he was just shrouded by Vader's shadow, and would still find his way back to her.

_He'd better._

Coming to the distant door, Trilla swiped her hand to force it open, and out came Vader, baring down upon her with his crimson blade as she barely ignited her gold in time. Her first deflection knocked her down, and the overhead hammer pinned her to the ground on one knee, almost screaming as she held him at bay. Cal and Petro rushed to the rescue, only to be swiped away like specs of dust with the wave of his hand, and his metal hand reached out to grip Trilla by the neck, holding her in place as she gagged.

"I want you to know, Trilla Suduri," he growled, his deep voice rattling her bones as he spoke. "That Xur Eon died the most pitiful death he could muster. With him gone, I will now silence his legacy for _all time_."

Her eyes widened…_he knew_.

Trilla had never contemplated death after she had become pregnant. It never seemed to be possible, not after the Force had granted her such a gift. To imagine such a cruelness to be enacted upon her seemed unlikely, as well as brutally unjust.

Yet, here she was, staring into the black holes of Vader's soulless gaze, preparing to feel the dragon fire through her abdomen as he ended _two_ lives at once.

At least she would be reunited with him…wherever she went after death.

Vader's gaze turned, and in a sudden movement he released his grip upon her throat, using both hands to deflect and parry an attack from behind. In flipped Cere as the hilt smacked back into her hand, and then locked the crimson blade with Vader's own, while Trilla crawled away and gasped for air.

Cere looked up to Vader in stark defiance, her expression fierce and resolve solidified. "You can't have her…"

Vader growled with intense annoyance, swinging with both hands on his hilt, a powerful swing that knocked the blade off balance so far, he was able to step forward…and drive his beam straight through her body.

Cere gasped as her heart was incinerated and screams of peril and denial came from both Trilla and Cal as the death blow was given. Through that devastating blow, she heaved, forcing herself up with the blade still in her body, and suddenly thrusted her own towards the mechanized demon, her attempt pulled off course by his retaliation, but the attack sunk deep into his circuitry at his hip. He groaned and fell to one knee, just as Cere's lifeless corpse slid from his blade and stared wide-eyed into nothingness.

Trilla wailed at the sight…her cry in anguish for all her former master had done…and the life she had given to save her. All the hatred she had ever carried evaporated, her story becoming that of resilience…instead of betrayal.

"Cere!" Cal screamed, his throat projecting it loudly as Trilla fell forward, her fingers digging into the metal beneath them.

Rearing forward, her heart in pieces, she bellowed, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"

Vader struggled to shake off his wound…but something else was holding him back…an immense power that radiated through the hallway and crushed all within its grasp. Cal and Petro groaned in pain under its power, and only then did she realize…

It was _her_.

"Trilla…no!" Petro begged.

The Sith Lord slowly rose his head, locking his expressionless gaze upon her. "_Yes_…release your anger…just as I taught you. The Dark Side is _strong _within you…embrace your hatred for me!" he goaded, rising to his feet with a reversal of his own power.

Trilla glared at him with a piercing gaze that could kill, and the durasteel creaked and groaned around them…cracking the thick glass that separated them from the engulfing ocean. He was right…she hated him more than _anything_ in the galaxy, and more than ever she wanted to kill every living being between her and her revenge.

She embraced it…and saw nothing but _red_.

"Trilla!"

Her world went silent, and the power she emitted stalled out. Looking back…Xur was standing there…_alive_…smiling back at her.

"Give him hell, girl."

She smiled back to him, and when she turned, she unleashed that focused energy upon Vader, which was enough to kick him off his feet momentarily, until he dug his saber into the ground to slow his momentum. With a blissful smile at the relinquishment of her anger, her vision faded to black.

"Get her," Xur said to Cal, before stepping forward with both blades ignited, just as Vader rose to his full height.

"You…are a difficult man to kill, Eon," Vader admitted.

The zabrak stood with his blades at his side, protecting the three of them while Cal hoisted Trilla over his shoulder. "You can't win, Vader," Xur denied. "You'll never win."

"Victory is not the goal," he growled. "Only security."

"Do you see this?" he presented…drawing something his mother had once told him…a lesson he never forgot. "This is what you've created…countless murderers, slayers, _assassins_. All of them born of war that has as always…taught us the _wrong_ lesson."

Vader remained silent, and Xur looked through his red optics…seeing the amber-eyed gaze of Anakin Skywalker.

"I was there…it broke me too," Xur admitted. "And I'm sorry. All I ever dreamed about was killing you…but now I see. Hatred, anger…revenge…it's the death of the galaxy as we know it."

The Dark Lord offered him no reply, only stepping forward.

"If that is all you desire…then I will do _whatever_ it takes to stop you," he twirled his blades, falling into a ready stance.

"Know this as you die in vain," Vader declared. "You never mattered. All that matters is what my Master demands."

Xur stared through his own blades, just as the entire Fortress shook once again, and the sirens went critical.

Vader charged.

The zabrak deactivated his blades and outstretched his hands, throwing up a powerful force barrier that deflected Vader's swing like glass. With a roar in anger, Vader plunged his blade into the energy field, and Xur tipped his head.

"Until next time, old friend," he winked. "Cal, now!"

With a heave, Cal's Force push ripped through the glass, and water rushed into the open air pulling he, Cal, Petro and Trilla into the ocean. Vader, his suit not able to filter that much water, held out his hands and pushed back the rushing wave with all his powerful might.

Xur looked up to the surface, Trilla's limp body sustained in Cal's grip as he passed her his breather, and he felt himself ease at the sight.

That was when Merrin appeared from above, swam to where they resided, and pulled them into her grasp of magik.

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Fortress Inquisitorious – Fusion Accelerator**

Brutis felt the heat burn at his skin as he lay atop the bodies he had left behind, the sirens deafening him long ago. His bones shattered…his body broken…he looked up through that shaft and smiled.

"Burn in hell…_fuckers_."

He ripped.

He tore.

It was done…and all he saw was white.

* * *

**Nur, 14 BBY**

**Beaches**

Vader clambered ashore, his suit a static mess and burnt to a crisp as it breached the sand. Rolling onto his rear, he looked back at the irradiated ocean that had been left behind. The Fortress had been utterly erased by the ensuing blast that had come, water kicked up for miles as it splashed far from where it came.

It was gone.

Activating his comm in his helmet, he looked past his sharp breathing and spoke, "Grand Inquisitor. Find me at these coordinates."

The response was slow, but he envisioned that was the surprise he had survived the blast. "_As you wish, my Lord._"

Vader killed the comm and sat there, staring, for a long while.

_**=STAR WARS EONS: INQUISITION=**_

* * *

**Thank you…truly and thoroughly…**_**all**_** of you for being along for this amazing journey. This story was an incredible ride for me…and by no means is it over! For now, I wanted to conclude the "novel" portion of this story, since that is what it had become.**

**I can't stress how fucking awesome you guys have been. This has been so much fun to write; to give back to a character that deserved way more than what she got! There are still so many stories to tell involving these characters and be sure to still keep an eye out for this story!**

**So what happens now?**

**Nothing is really changing. I just won't be numbering the chapters any longer, but the story will go on! ****Stay tuned…I've already got some ideas that will be fresh off the press in the coming days!**

**Before I sign off, let me make some acknowledgments to some special people who helped out big time along the way.**

**Xwing1357**** – The man, the myth…the hyper-critical legend! Your brutal honesty has made this story what it is, and I know it is better for it! Thank you for all your help, and I hope you are pleased with what you have missed recently…and won't be too mad once you do read this far :P**

**DFM23**** – Aside from giving me the keys to your Porsche (Wraith I mean), thanks for bouncing ideas off with me! Our brainstorming sessions helped immensely with putting this together, and I can't wait for Wraith to rear his head into this universe again! Keep up the great work with that epic you've built. In fact, all of you, each of my followers…go check this guy out! I mean it! He writes some kickass action, and who doesn't like that?**

**The Begging Guest**** – I guess I should acknowledge your persistence. Yes you, anonymous person who keeps copying and pasting your reviews! Man, that was annoying to be honest, but I admire your love for this story anyhow. So…thanks…I guess?**

**All of those who left reviews, I thank you for your support, and know that your enthusiasm and critique is how we keep this story going!**

**So…you want a hint at what's next? Guess I can give you a few key words at what the next couple of chapters may entail.**

**A date?**

**A togruta?**

**A new species?**

**Sketch comedies?**

**Crossovers?**

**Fluffy, icky-gooey fan service?!**

**Hm…who knows?**

**See y'all then, and may the motherfuckin' force be with you all.**


	34. Aftermath

**Aftermath**

Trilla held the printed placard in her gloved grip, doing her best to remain strong as she stood at the head of the group. The texture of it was slick, almost as if it had been laminated, but the make of her gloves skipped against its surface anyhow. It almost resembled the relationship she had with who this sign represented…constant bumps along the way, until it smoothed out just as her hand reached the end, and she held it properly underneath, revealing the name that was printed.

_CERE JUNDA_.

When she had felt her old master die…she had felt herself break all over again. All that rage she had stowed away after Katarr had come roaring back, and all she could imagine was tearing that wretched machine of a man apart. He had already taken everything away from her, and to not only kill the man she loved as well as the master she had reconciled with…the galaxy had no further use to her anymore.

But when Xur showed himself again…that's when she knew Cere had sacrificed herself to prevent that horrible fate from ever tormenting her again, and to give in to that hatred was to have her sacrifice be in vain. Cere had proven to be the most resilient woman she had ever met, and as she held her memorial placard, she vowed to never forget what she had taught her, and to progress her memory into the future.

Cal gripped her forearm in comfort, as well as reassurance, and she accepted that as her cue to step forward and slide her name into the designated slot on the wall. Above her name was that of Kaidan Alko, Davos Blaze, Mars, Vogel Brutis…and Effa Azulia.

Trilla felt her hand gravitate towards Effa's name, and once her thumb brushed up against it, the fond memories with her returned…all those stupid girly times they ran through the Jedi Temple, all the friendly training duels they used to have. Even when they had both been broken, they had shared moments of subtle normalcy from time to time, which were much more radiant memories now than they were at the time.

Feeling her chin tremble, Trilla leaned into her name and whispered, "I'm so sorry, my dear."

Distantly, she could've sworn she heard her voice…whispering that she was alright. Whether it was real or not didn't matter, as Trilla felt her resolve take root. Returning to her spot in the group, spotting Cal wipe tears from his face while Merrin gripped his hand, Trilla clasped her hands behind her back and adopted a confident pose of solidarity. Xur stood beside her, mirroring her pose, but sending her a nudge of support in the Force.

As the memorial wall aboard the _Valkyrie_ had now been fitted with all the names it needed, Vorchenko stepped forward. "Let us all remember the sacrifices these brave individuals made in our struggle against the dogmatic tyranny of the Empire. While some of them spent most of their fight as our enemies…they died our friends…comrades…and they shall receive recognition either way. Their light may have been stamped from our world…but we will live on, and carry on their sacrifice in memory…

"…if anyone would like to say a few words…now is the time."

The silence persisted as a courtesy, but it did not last. Raven and Lockdown both saluted and recited, "May your nightmares end, brother. Your mission…is over," in reverence to Mars, in which Xur and Vorchenko also saluted.

Petro let his head droop. "Brutis…wasn't exactly a nice guy…but that wasn't the point. Through that hard bravado…he cared, and he had spent his life around so many people who didn't…so he hid his true self…right up until the end. He sacrificed himself to spare anyone else from suffering that experience…and in the end…I learned more from him than I ever did before."

Trilla felt her heart break, and through the crowd she reached to brush his back soothingly with her hand.

"He always did hate that place," Lockdown agreed.

Another silence followed, and this time Xur spoke up. "Kaidan was never the serious one…always the jokester. I never imagined I'd actually dedicate an entire mission to the guy…but I'm glad I was wrong. It's just a…damn shame I couldn't save him."

Trilla took her turn next. "I know Effa was…troubled…in fact perhaps that's an understatement…but before she lost herself, she was a beacon of virtue…someone I had aspired to be like when we were only little girls," she swallowed, keeping herself maintained. "She was kind…compassionate and beautiful…and I only wish…I only wish she received a chance to redeem herself."

It was so hard not to cry…her eyes feeling as if they were bulging pressure valves as she struggled to hold them back, the faces of both Cere and Effa the most prominent of all. Trilla had been no better than either of them…and she could even argue that she had been the worst of them all…so why was _she_ alive, and not them? What was so special about her?

Xur's hand grasped hers for support, although keeping his gaze forward…and that's when she realized that there _was_ no answer. The dead were dead, and she wasn't…so it was her responsibility to be sure to take advantage of that granted fate.

And then Greez shifted. "When I met Cere, she tried to hide it, but I could tell she had a troubled past. At first, I wasn't so sure about her, but once I saw she knew her stuff, we just clicked. It was so hard to explain…but I just knew she and I would get along. She had this fire about her that I had never seen before, and it had eventually lugged me in to rescuing this lousy Jedi," he flicked his head at Cal, who managed a semi smile as his tears showed again. "Best thing that could've ever happened to me. I just hope that wherever she is now…she's at peace."

A tear seeped through her eye, and Trilla made no move to wipe it away.

"Cere taught me how to…move on…despite the odds," Cal trembled, sniveling while Merrin could not keep her eyes dry as well. "And that we can't give up, or the sacrifices of those we love will be for nothing. Even after all she had suffered, she still held out hope that there could be a future not just for her…but for all of us…even for the Padawan she felt she had failed…"

Trilla's chin trembled as the tears burst from her eyes, but she did not sob, and latched her other hand into Cal's free.

"She sacrificed herself to show us that even in the guise of total darkness…the light will always find a way," he finished.

_I will never forget your many lessons…Master._

With a silent prayer…the dead were wished off, and they all pressed forward.

* * *

The dining hall on the _Valkyrie_ was filled with its entire crew, all invited to eat and drink to their hearts content after such a convincing victory against the Empire. Despite the somber atmosphere, it had livened up quickly once the festivities began. There was no shortage of laughter, slamming of mugs and the occasional claps that came from room-wide cheers.

Xur was just elated he had enough people to play his stupid drinking game.

"You served under the…_thirteenth_ battalion," Xur pointed towards Cal, who in turn sighed and took a drink from his cup, who was already starting to look buzzed just by his inability to focus his gaze.

"Go again," Trilla said.

"Why does _he_ get to go again?" Cal protested, which made Merrin laugh, still nursing her own drink.

"Because _I'm_ the designated referee," she reminded him, which was a made-up role for 'one who cannot drink because they are pregnant'. "Go again," she nudged her zabrak boyfriend.

Xur cleared his throat and filtered his current buzz, thinking of a possible fact from Cal's past. The goal of the game was to guess such facts, and if the guesser was right, then the target had to drink, and if the guesser was wrong, they had to drink. Of course, everyone had stupidly agreed to give Trilla basically unlimited power, who in turn was abusing it to get everyone else as drunk as possible.

"You tried practicing Form Four, but you were so dogshit at it that you quit!"

"No!" Cal smiled, making Xur take a drink. "That was Form Five."

Trilla's eyes paced away from Cal and to Petro. "Alright you. Go ahead and guess from the Padawan."

Merrin laughed while Cal shrugged defensively. "Why can't I go?! And I'm not a Padawan!"

"You are to me!" Trilla giggled.

Petro was struggling to make out what was in front of him…being fifteen and all…but he went, nonetheless. "You…pissed your pants in your sleep after Bracca!"

The entire table was filled with chants of _ooooooohhh_, but Cal feverishly shook his head. "No, I didn't piss my pants. Take a drink, kiddo."

"Bullshit!" Xur accused, and then pointed to Trilla. "Look at that face! You're telling me you didn't get nightmares? I did!"

Cal paused in recognition, and then turned to Trilla. "I have a guess for Xur!"

"No, I was going to have Merrin go next," she shook her head. "Go on and guess the Padawan."

The red head groaned while Merrin studied him, and he couldn't help but start to laugh under her gaze, especially after all he had drank. She pointed, but her finger aimed away from him, and it took a manual adjustment to actually be in the correct position. "I was the first girl you ever kissed."

He was about to protest, but his hesitation earned the heckling of the crowd. "Okay, that's cheating."

"No it isn't," Trilla shook her head.

"How?!"

"Because I say it isn't! Drink, Padawan!" she laughed as Cal begrudgingly succumbed to his fate, and then probed the table for the next pair.

"Can I go now?" he asked.

Trilla mockingly crossed her arms and looked upwards in thought. "Yes. You can guess me, but since I can't drink, you'll have to drink for me."

Laughs erupted around the table, and Cal was tipsy enough to not even care. "Alright, I'll take that," he accepted, narrowing his eyes as he observed the completely sober Trilla, until straightening his back. "You were made an honorary member of the Five-oh-Second Legion."

Xur knocked his fist on the table. "Damn right she was."

"Drink for me," she tipped her head, and he obliged. "Go again."

Cal groaned, but gave in anyway. "Uh…you had a crush on me after Bracca."

_That _aroused the table, even Xur, who was nudging her playfully. "You _did_. Don't even lie!" he accused, and she adopted a feverish look of denial.

"I did not!" she smacked him in the shoulder, which actually stung despite his full-body numbness. "_Despicable man_…drink, Padawan!"

This time, Cal fumbled the cup from his grip, and that was when Merrin stepped in. "Alright Trilla…I think we should stop teasing him for now."

"Look what you did to him," Xur teased shock, earning him an admonishing look from Trilla that struggled to hide her smile.

"You are such a _cunt_. Don't turn _me_ into the villain now," she warned, which only made Xur want to tease her further.

"What are you going to do?" he challenged, which earned _oooooooos_ around the table.

Trilla cocked her head. "How about make you sleep alone tonight?"

Xur gulped, scratching the back of his neck as he shut his mouth, the table giving her praise for her quick comeback. "Sorry…"

"You're damn right you're sorry," she nudged. "In fact, Merrin, guess him."

"There he is!" someone shouted from behind, and Xur felt himself wrapped in a bro-hug from behind, and he recognized the gauntlet armor as Raven's. "There's our General!"

Lockdown wasn't far behind, and Xur felt the comradery compound with how little his inhibitions still existed, giving the both of them proper hugs and the clasping of hands. "You guys know you don't have to call me that."

Raven chuckled as he took a step back, redirecting his eyes to the group. "This man…I remember when he was just a little boy on Teth," he wrapped his arm tightly around the zabrak's neck, getting laughs from the group, as well as Trilla, who watched with joy. "When our gunship went down, he dragged me out even when one of my legs were broken. That's when I knew this was no _boy_.

"That's why all of us…Lockdown, Mars, all those men in the five-oh-first…chose to follow him," Raven continued, roughly pulling him closer. "His arms may be a little skinny…but he's _strong_."

Trilla shook her head, grasping Xur's hand. "His arms are just fine."

The zabrak mulled that response. "Eh…they're a _little _skinny."

"No matter what happened, he kept _fighting_," Raven continued, dogmatic in his efforts to continue his speech, just as drunk as the rest of them. "Whether it was punching clankers or sending inquisitors home in body bags, he _kept_ fighting! He rubbed face paint on and marched into the fucking Fortress! What kind of person would do that? A _madman_, or our _General!_"

Xur blushed at the praise, and everyone only added to it, just as Vorchenko walked by and had the unfortunate pleasure of being pulled in by Lockdown. "And this…our shining, brilliant Admiral!"

Trilla rose to her feet to try and free her from his grip, but she was truthfully intoxicated enough to go along with it. "It's alright," she waved off, just as the cheers for her rose as well.

"Ah, yes!" Raven added. "She may be stoic…she may be a hard ass…but she's just as strong as the rest of us. I saw her jam that blaster right underneath that man's helmet and pull the trigger six times!"

Vorchenko scoffed. "It was three times…"

"She convinced an entire ship to tell the Empire to go fuck a krayt dragon! What more proof do you need?" he presented, and Lockdown let her go, part of him knowing what he was doing was less than ideal.

"I did my best," she conceded.

"And then…" Raven turned to Trilla, and she pointed a finger in warning, to which they both obliged to. "Our beloved Commander," he bowed.

"Perhaps not _always_," Trilla mused.

"_No_, we always loved you!" Raven insisted, to which she tried to hide herself behind her hand. "May you live happy…and congratulations on your child."

There were claps with that, and that's when Trilla's blush began to show. "Thank you, Raven."

"Now, General…" Lockdown reached behind his back and pulled a massive lidded mug, offering it to Xur. "We have a surprise for you."

Xur accepted it, popping the lid, and then pulling his head back. "Oh my…how much Rancor's Gut did you put in this thing?!"

Raven scratched his head, turning to Lockdown. "What was it…ten shots?"

"_Ten?!_ Six is enough to set off fucking radiological alarms!"

"Ah, you'll be fine!" Lockdown waved off.

Xur grimaced, mulling it anyway with how buzzed he was, and the chants around the table for him to drink began to grow. From what he could tell, they put some kind of sweet chaser to at least balance the taste, but he never liked Rancor's Gut much anyway…and Trilla, a prominent drinker, found herself annihilated after only four of them on Vandor. Sure, it took less for women to get drunk on average, but still…he had no intention to die tonight.

"Not all in one go," he bartered.

"Come on!" Lockdown goaded.

"You can do it," Trilla urged, and even after his expression of worry reached her, she only brushed her hand against his leg. "I'll take care of you."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, of course, now drink!"

Xur took a deep breath and then raised the mug. "All of us then," he offered, and everyone raised their cups, even Trilla with her non-alcohol. "To all of you…beautiful people, making this possible!"

Cheers erupted, and Xur drank the entire thing…and paid the consequences.

* * *

Trilla watched anxiously as she scrunched her fingers together in a tough rub against Xur's back, emptying the contents of his stomach for the fourth time. Softening it into a soothing motion, she patted him for comfort, also sitting forward to pull some of his hair out of the way of the toilet. Once he was done, she flushed it for him, and then fell back against the bathroom wall as he hunched over, groaning in discomfort.

"I'm so stupid," he cursed himself as he had many times already, constantly reiterating that his current state was all his doing. "I'm sorry," he apologized, which was also something he had done _many_ times since they had boarded the docked _Fury_.

"What did I promise you?" she asked, still rubbing his back. "I promised to take care of you, didn't I? And you're not stupid, darling. You just had a little more fun than usual."

"Vomiting is _not_ fun," he mumbled, almost groaning like a child.

She held him close, which oddly didn't disgust her with how many times he had thrown up. "Hence is the price of such things, my love. I remember you doing something similar for me on Vandor."

Xur slapped his hand against his face as he rubbed his eye, his voice unsure what tone it should adopt mid-sentence. "I remember…_heh_…you were so cute…"

That day was certainly more important than she had appreciated at the time. After Katarr, it was the first time she had sat down and _enjoyed_ herself since Order 66 was issued, and the small act had proven to be instrumental in her subsequent return to finding herself again. She'd loved Xur for doing that for her since, and today only felt like returning the favor. With what he had done on Nur, she just wanted to see him happy.

And after all he had drank, he had been _very_ happy for a while. With enough drinks, everyone began to dance to different tunes played over the intercom, and he had even managed to convince her to try it with him. Neither of them was any good, but neither of them really cared…although it did make her slightly jealous that he was drunk, and she was not. Seeing everyone drinking had been harder than she let on, feeling a constant craving for the taste of alcohol on her lips, and to feel the lightening of inhibitions that came with it. Her mood hadn't been soured, but if she had to do this for another eight to nine months…she imagined it would only get worse.

But she couldn't drink, since that would be immensely harmful to the baby growing within her as she sat beside her zabrak boyfriend…who was throwing up again.

"There you go," she eased, rubbing his back as he pulled away from the toilet, the sound of its flush soon following. He then looked to her, and she had to hold him back before he could press his lips against her neck. "Xur…you're drunk…stop it."

"You said you'd take care of me…" he whined, to which she pushed him back with more sincerity.

"I _am_…but you are not allowed to kiss me, not when you're like this," she pointed, and the firmness in her gaze seemed to draw him back. Once he realized what he had done, his head drooped, and he covered his eyes in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry…I shouldn't have done that," he apologized, and his whimpering almost broke her heart.

"It's alright," she eased, and then pulled him in so he could rest his head on her shoulder, doing her best to entice him to rest. "_Shhhhh_," she hushed. "You need to sleep it off," she urged, knowing he'd just vomit whatever water she gave him.

His breathing eased, and he snuggled into her like a baby with its mother, making her smile at the adorableness of the situation. Soon, his hand felt its way to her womb, and she couldn't help but place her own atop his.

"Sing me a song, please," he asked. "Your voice is so beautiful."

Trilla smiled, pulling him in closer, and dove into her various arrays of tunes. She had settled for a huttese version of a lullaby, one about a mother who listed all the beautiful things she loved about her child…and the father who had raised them. He couldn't understand it, she knew that, but after his small smile, his snoring had begun, and once the tune had ended, she kissed his head.

Despite outweighing her, she had managed to carry his body to bed with the help of the Force, soon situating herself beside him as a watchful guardian, before the wave of sleep had claimed her as well.

* * *

Cal studied the green hued holocron for a long while, long relinquished of the hangover he had nursed away from the day before. Merrin sat beside him aboard the _Mantis_, and on the other side stood Greez, a smirk on his face and arms crossed.

"Wherever you need to go, Cal, I'll take you," he promised. "My days of gambling and sitting tight are done."

He smiled at that. "Thanks, Greez."

"I do not plan on leaving you either," Merrin made clear, although he felt it didn't need to be said. "If you wish to find your Jedi children, I will help."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Cal grasped her hand, to which she returned the gesture. There was little to consider. Despite the risk he knew was there in attempting to restore the Jedi Order…the Force had mandated this mission through that vision he had witnessed on Bogano

_Light the fire that will forge the shield._

It was time to get to work.

* * *

"Good luck, General," Vorchenko shook hands with Xur, who tipped his head in respect. "Once I discover what I can about this Greater Imperium, I will be sure to let you know."

"Thanks," Xur crossed his arms. "The sooner we get an idea of who the Benefactor is, the better."

The former Imperial Admiral maintained that stoic arms behind her back stance, but he had known her long enough to know that something was on her mind. She was never one to keep it to herself, however.

"I do hope your sojourn serves you well, Eon…but we're going to need you sooner rather than later," she admitted, and he at least appreciated her honesty. He and Trilla's decision to go it alone for the next nine months or so was mostly for them to maintain secrecy, and to also find themselves without the distraction of the larger galaxy. With Rava's intricacy and their ship, the chances of the Empire ever finding them were basically nil.

But they had no intentions of staying out of the fight for long.

"Take care of Raven and Lockdown for me," Xur requested, to which she obliged with a bow.

"Take care of yourself."

With that, he turned up the loading ramp of the _Fury_, leaving the war behind.

* * *

**Short little epilogue chapter for you. Don't worry, got another one coming in hot. **

**Little update on what will be happening. Writing this chapter, I've realized how sort of "complete" a lot of these characters are, so don't expect long chapters as we transition between main stories. This one especially felt rather aimless, and I think I'm going to use a time skip right after the next chapter. Continuing a story that's basically already told isn't as juicy as I thought it would be.**

**What to expect? For the foreseeable future, I only plan to be really telling stories about Xur and Trilla, and one arc about Cal, Merrin and Greez, so those side characters have served their purpose for now. My characterization tank needs fresh juice to squeeze!**

**I also may or may not be doing a tribute chapter for my old stories…mostly making fun of them, but it could but funny…who knows?**

**One last thing – I'm leaning towards keeping the next story within this one instead of creating a new collection of chapters, that way y'all don't have to search and I can keep it all in one place. The sequel isn't exactly "Star Wars Games", and I really don't want to put it in the Movies category with all the Reylo cringe pieces (**_**ugh**_**). Besides, this community has proven to appreciate what I write more than any other one has, so why try to fix a perfect wheel? I'm pretty sure there's no rules against this…but feel free to let me know if you think I should do something else.**

**Next: The Date!**


	35. The Date

**The Date**

Xur couldn't quite get over it. Every time he tried distracting himself with various duties around the ship, or through the honing of his abilities, it found its way into his field of view again. To be a father…he just never thought it was possible. Jedi weren't supposed to have children, _or_ have relationships in the first place, and while he never held himself to that rule, the idea of it manifesting that far seemed so out of reach it wasn't reasonable to expect it…something so essential to the continuation of life in the galaxy.

When Trilla told him she was pregnant…with _his_ child, it was fear that first dominated him. He had only known war, battle and training his entire life, and the prospect of settling down and having a child of his own never seemed possible. If she hadn't gone behind his back, he most likely would never have allowed it to happen, regarding his end anyway. Emotionally, he had been somewhat angry at first, but to feel entitled to a natural decision she made about her own body was out of his control. The prospect of sharing himself with her always included the risk of pregnancy, contraceptive or not…and if it happened, he would have to live with it, as it had been his choice to take that risk.

Besides…the whole thing sunk in very positively anyhow. He couldn't think of anyone else he'd rather have one with, and just having a child anyway was another chance to flip the bird to the flawed Jedi Code those pompous assholes shoved down his throat. Trilla had suffered so many horrors in her life, and if she wanted this child to bring her a bit of happiness, who was he to turn her down? He loved her, that much was for certain…and he wanted desperately to show her how much.

Which was why he was in the cockpit of the _Fury_, speaking to Rava via her command port.

"There are a few flaws with that plan," she noted. "Mostly the timing of it all."

Xur shrugged. "But we can get there?"

Rava narrowed her red optic as she nodded her domed head slightly. "Yes, of course we can get there."

"Good…you're a Vee-Eye, so I'll assume you can work out scheduling via the Holonet," he suggested, to which she mock-sighed.

"And why is that my responsibility?" Rava asked.

"Trust me, skee-ball. Trilla's gonna love it…but only if you give me a little help here," Xur insisted, rising to his feet.

"Are you sure? She's been experiencing many symptoms via her pregnancy, and I cannot advise anything too strenuous on her," Rava kept her voice projector low on the volume. "Even if she does not approve of my concerns."

Trilla didn't want either of them to think she couldn't perform her duties while she was pregnant, still insisting on continuing her advanced echani combat training, to which she had become frighteningly good at. It was empowering, and he was glad she was still committed to her own betterment, but he didn't want her to wear herself out too much, not if she was struggling with nausea and other ailments.

"Trust me…this will be the least strenuous string of activities she will ever partake in," Xur assured, and then paced away.

"_Ugh_…" Rava groaned but moved to fulfill his request anyhow. "If you insist…organic overlord."

Xur was too focused on finding Trilla to hear her remark, admittedly feeling a bit nervous for what he was about to suggest to her. It was almost as if he became that twelve-year-old boy again, basically shivering at the prospect of having to exchange words with a girl he thought was attractive.

_Come on man…it's Trilla! You literally talk to her every day for fuck sake…_

Forcing himself forward with a leap of faith, he opened the door to her room, only to see the sheets unmade and the lights dimmed, the bright shine of the small bathroom light illuminating one corner. There was the sound of brushing teeth, as well as grunts of ailment from her as he approached, peeking in from the door frame. Trilla was standing over the sink, dressed in only a sports bra and pants, her eyes shut with discomfort as her free hand clasped on to the edge of the granite counter. She wasn't wearing the light glove that usually covered her mechno-arm when she was dressed casually, not caring to expose the servos as she gripped the toothbrush with annoyance.

"Hey…" he greeted, standing at the door. She momentarily stopped her brushing and opened her eyes, seeing him through the mirror, before continuing.

"Mohnih dahlih," she struggled to speak with her mouth full of paste, unable to properly pronounce Rs or Gs.

"Doing alright?" he asked, but this time she didn't grace him with an answer, electing to finish her brushing and spit the rest of the paste from her mouth.

"A little better than the previous morning," she admitted, rinsing her mouth clean and setting her toothbrush back in a durasteel cup. "No vomiting."

"That's good," he nodded, crossing his arms. It was then that he finally noticed her black hair had grown enough to hit her shoulders, a luxury she could exercise now that she was no longer mandated to wear a helmet. The scars that cut up her back from various lightsaber wounds were visible…something about her he liked more than he felt comfortable telling her.

She rolled her neck out as she adjusted her posture, and then looked down at her stomach, and he noticed that not much had changed yet, as Rava had confirmed it was merely the size of a regular-sized fruit in her womb. Still, when Trilla opened her eyes, she looked drained and utterly exhausted.

"How'd you sleep? You were out for twelve hours this time," he noted, to which she took a deep breath, holding her head with slight discomfort.

"I feel like it wasn't long enough," she noted, and he knew better than to run up and help her along, as she had never liked him babying her in the first place. "But I'm not going to let my days waste away…or leave you to all the tasks."

"Do what you feel you need, Trilla," he assured. "I already told you I'm willing to take it all over."

"I know, but…" she sighed, rubbing her eyes with her flesh hand. "I'm not going to let this bloody baby slow me down."

What she hadn't brought up was the withdrawals she was going through as she gave up alcohol…which were placated by healing trances that he helped her with, but it had affected her mood certainly. Best he'd done was be as patient as possible around her, doing his best to alleviate the growing mountain of stress she held on her shoulders.

Xur finally stepped forward, rubbing her back in a soothing fashion. "Come on, let's get you some caf."

* * *

Trilla hadn't lounged in just sparse sleepwear in a period of time she could not even contemplate. Sitting back in a recliner they had specifically picked up after she had become pregnant, she felt the warmth of her cup of caf soothe the skin of her hand, as well as the calming chemicals that her body emitted from the chance to relax. Letting the hum of the engines ease her mind, she felt herself dozing off.

Shaking her head in annoyance, she forced herself awake, none too keen on sleeping right after a twelve-hour bout of it. She felt the need to do something productive; practice Vaapad, punch her training dummy, or tinker with her gear set. The damn vocabulator wouldn't adjust to the tone she wanted, even after she had adjusted the light hues to a less intimidating gold-yellow, the same color as her blade. Ideally, she wished to speak through it without terrifying children…especially if she were about to give _birth_ to one.

This effort was proving much more taxing than she had envisioned, but she could not have asked for a more helpful partner. She knew her mood may have been sour at times, but she could not be more grateful to Xur for all he had done to help. While she didn't want him to take over all responsibilities around the ship…her appreciation was certainly there.

Her stomach growled…but not just for food…

"Sweetheart?" she called, remembering him walking to the back of the ship.

"Yeah?" he replied from an area she could not see, hearing him fumbling with something. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, darling, I'm fine," she assured. "Do you know if we have any scazz steaks in the freezer?"

She heard him scoff. "Scazz steaks? You eat those?"

Never in her life, and yet she wanted some…_now_. "Next time we port, we should pick up some."

"Whatever you want, hun."

Trilla took another sip of caf, trying to forget about her odd and sudden craving, letting the hot liquid drain down her throat, and then felt the ship rumble and shift forward ever so slightly.

"Rava…did we just go into hyperspace?" she asked.

"_Yes_," the VI answered from the intercom, to which Trilla adopted a puzzled look. They had no plans on going anywhere at this hour…did they?

Xur finally emerged from the back of the ship, and he was carrying something in a plastic cover…one she could not make out.

"What's that?" she narrowed her eyes.

The zabrak smiled. "I uh…got you something."

She cocked her head with a growing smile as he unraveled it, making her set her cup of caf aside as she looked over. Best she could tell, since it was still folded over, it was a set of clothing stacked atop each other, with the top being what looked to be a fashionable jacket, and she could guess below that was a pair of pants.

"Casual clothing?" she asked…somewhat confused.

"I know you don't like dresses much…so I did my best. Tried to find a civilian version of what you normally wear," he handed it to her, to which she got a chance to look through it. It was very nice, that was for certain, and almost exactly as he described it.

"Are we…going somewhere?" she enquired…to which she eventually realized she never said thank you.

All he did was smile. "Rava…how long?"

"_One hour_," she relayed.

He winked. "One hour for you to get ready, hun. Make it count."

"Wha-…Xur," she called to him before he could walk away, flashing him a look that demanded a straight answer, while also showing she wasn't _upset_. "Where are we going?"

The zabrak shrugged as he disappeared into the back again. "You'll see!"

Trilla sighed. "Should I apply casual or formal makeup?"

"Whatever you want!"

"Oh…you…" she giggled to herself. "…cunt."

Suddenly her morning had just been hijacked.

* * *

Xur tried his best to clean himself up, which he wasn't much good at. The Jedi never cared much for casual or formal dress, expecting him to "robe up" as he called it, at every moment of every day. In fact, the errand he ran to pick up he and Trilla's clothing was the first time he had ever bought regular clothes for himself…and picking out for another only made it more difficult.

He just wanted this night to be perfect…she deserved as much. For once in his life he was less concerned about himself, and while the happiness of the woman he loved certainly wasn't entirely selfless, it was at least a step in the right direction. If he were going to be a father, he'd have to adjust to the role he wanted for his child…which was probably a little less _him_.

Fixing his hair up, nothing overly fancy, as he had nothing to prove to her, he stepped out of the back room, pacing to the cockpit. Rava was still at the wheel, her optic turning his way as he approached.

"Any trouble? I've heard the nebula can be tough to navigate," he asked, deciding to only stand behind his co-pilot chair.

"The Gemini Nebula is nearly as thick as the Deep Core in terms of star clusters. Without what the Benefactor provided, I'd say it'd be nearly impossible to chart a course, even for me," the VI begrudgingly admitted.

Xur scoffed. "Did you just admit you _can't_ do something?"

"I said _nearly_ impossible."

"Right, right," he cleared his throat.

"I've never heard of this Gemini Nebula," Trilla noted, her boots loud against the durasteel, prompting Xur to turn. Instantly he felt like he had underdressed himself, as Trilla looked absolutely incredible in his eyes…when really nothing had changed. Her makeup was more similar to what she used to flash as the Second Sister, but more vibrant…more _stunning_. Other than that, she was just her…a gorgeous, cleaned-up and shined portrait of the woman he'd cross the galaxy for.

"Wow…" he gasped, and she blushed, almost trying to hide behind her shoulders. "You look…amazing."

Trilla's nervousness was apparent, but she did well to move past it. "You clean up well, my handsome Jedi," she cocked her head, smiling.

"Really?" he asked, unsure. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

She rolled her eyes, knowing he was kidding. "Now, are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

Xur shrugged. "Can't a guy take his girl out on a date?"

Her eyes widened for a moment, falling back before her mind finally processed what he was entailing. "A _normal_ man, maybe…but we're not normal."

"No," he shook his head, gripping her upper arms. "But you know me. Today I just don't give a damn."

Her bright smile returned. "That is but one thing I love most about you…but if this is our _first_ date," she entailed, pulling herself from his grip. "We should treat it as such."

The zabrak blinked a few times, a little slow to her reasoning. "But you're pregnant…with _our_ kid."

Trilla cocked her head, her eyes depicting wonder as to why that fact made a difference. "And…?"

Xur scoffed, eventually chuckling to himself. "You always make me work for it."

She stepped forward, walking her fingers up his chest. "It makes it all the more rewarding for the both of us."

Sighing in concession, he stopped trying to corral her…which was like pulling a baby from its favorite candy. "Fine…way to hijack my own idea."

"You _did_ hijack my morning," she winked, waltzing past him in a provocative fashion just to tease his senses…and he was embarrassed it was actually working. Trying to force away his growing lust, he took a deep breath and reasserted himself, just as they came out of hyperspace. Her eyes widened at the sight, assuming a position just behind Rava, the natural green glow of the nebula complimenting her emerald eyes so perfectly, Xur felt the innate desire to take a snapshot of the moment.

Sitting in the midst of the star nursery was the massive Gemini Station, a technological marvel that not even Xur had ever had the pleasure of coming to. Residing at the absolute edge of the galaxy, it had remained hidden from the outside world, and yet it was teeming with life; the beauty of being away from the gnarled claws of the Galactic Empire.

"What is this place?" she gasped.

"Our Benefactor called it Gemini Station. It is the gateway to the orbiting dwarf galaxy where the Imperium supposedly resides. The Empire doesn't even know it exists…in fact, not even the Republic was made aware of it," Xur explained.

"How did they manage that?" Trilla asked, just as Rava transmitted the clearance codes they were provided.

Xur shrugged. "Questions I don't have the answers to yet."

Trilla was almost lost in its splendor, her eyes scanning over its brilliant lights and construction. There were shielded areas in which they could spot the arcologies; the habitats in which all living beings resided within…some even living. She reached back and clasped her hand into his, pulling him along.

"I thought we were…"

"Later," she shook her head. "It's…beautiful."

He smirked. "Why do you think I wanted to take you here?"

She looked up to him and turned his way, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Thank you."

Xur knew better than to pull her in for a kiss, which would be premature with the demand of the moment, and instead gently grasped her hips. "A beautiful place for a beautiful woman."

Rava scoffed. "That was dreadful."

"Shut up," Trilla rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to this grouch."

"Trust me, it's natural," Xur remarked.

"Piss off," Rava spat. "You make the _real_ Second Brother seem smooth."

"_That's_ not funny," Trilla pointed.

"Yeah…what the hell?" the zabrak narrowed his eyes. "That dim-witted ass-wipe was so desperate he started hitting on Reyna."

"You're _shitting_ me."

"Nope."

"He's not," Rava confirmed. "Still…your attempts to swoon Trilla Suduri are about as palatable as-."

"That's quite enough out of you, thank you," Trilla silenced her, and then turned back to the zabrak in her arms. "What _are_ we doing exactly?"

Xur leaned in. "You hungry?"

Trilla almost melted in his grip. "Oh, I'm _famished_."

"Good."

* * *

The restaurant was perhaps the most technologically dazzling one either of them had been to…which wasn't saying much. Neither of them hardly ever went to restaurants in the first place, as most of their life had been spent as Jedi or fugitives, two occupations that hardly allowed the occasion. Colorful and pleasing hues of light filled the room, as well as a comforting dark atmosphere that set the mood perfectly for their endeavor. The music was a mixed array of pleasing, slow tunes, with a few upbeat and positive notes that had Trilla swaying her shoulders during their wait for their table to be prepared.

They were finally sat down near the edge of the restaurant, an outside area that had a quiet artificial river running beside them.

"This is nice…" Trilla remarked, their slick droid greeter stepping aside, but Xur still took the chance to pull her chair out for her, to which she appreciated very much. "Such a gentleman."

"It's part of my charm," he smirked as she sat down. "Although I'm not sure if I'm supposed to push you in or not."

"Ah, not to worry. I don't either," she giggled, electing to take care of it herself, while he took his own across the small table from her.

"Now are there any drinks I can get you two started off with?" the droid offered. Xur looked to her first, knowing she could not partake in alcohol.

"Don't let me stop you," she shrugged, and then looked up to the droid. "Water works for me."

"Are you sure?" Xur asked. "I don't want to party without you…"

"Eon, I'll be more upset if you restrict yourself for me, than if you had a drink," she made clear. "Please."

Xur smiled, tipping his head with his decision already made. "Keldare Ale."

Once they had their drinks settled and opted to wait for food so that Xur could enjoy his buzz, that's when the conversations began.

"So…what brings such a…distinguished combatant to a lively place like this?" Trilla asked.

Xur seemed confused as he took his first drink, but eventually caught on for a moment. "Is this that uh…first date thing you mentioned earlier?" he asked, and she discreetly nodded for him to play along. "Right, got it…uh…" he altered the tone of his voice, adopting a more nonchalant sitting position. "…This place…well, it's a great place to really _feel_ the energy, _relax_ and forget about all the troubles of the galaxy," he elaborated, and then peeked his eyes over at the other ravishing women of various races across the room. "And the scenery is not bad either."

Trilla scowled his way, until he leaned forward.

"But the view before me…" he huffed. "Brilliant…incredible."

Trilla scoffed. "Ah, well aren't you the smooth-talker. Is that supposed to melt a woman's heart?"

Xur shored himself up, but she found it amusing that she had put him on the spot, and finally rattled him a little. "Maybe not," he admitted, leaning in. "I'm Xur Eon, former Republic General and winner of _numerous_ battles against the Separatist insurgent forces; certified clanker-beater and slayer of more imperial officers than I care to count. Believe me, when looking at the list of Imperial Public Enemies…you'll find me at the top."

The zabrak seemed to wait for her response, but Trilla simply took a sip of her water and continued to stare.

"I also hunted Jedi on the side, and you are?"

She popped her brow. "Trilla Suduri."

The zabrak scratched his chin in thought, also in a manner Trilla had to hold in her amusement. "Trilla Suduri…I might've heard a _few_ things about you."

She cocked her head. "Oh? Indulge me."

Xur leaned in closer. "Word on the street…you're freakishly smart, incredibly sexy and an absolute goddess with a blade. Rumor has it you scared the piss out of so many stormtroopers, the Empire had to mandate all of its men to wear diapers."

Trilla giggled. "Obviously, rumors can become overblown."

"Ah, but I think there's some truth to it…since I've heard you _also_ hunted Jedi on the side."

She shrugged. "Perhaps for a moment. Does that frighten you, Eon?"

"Frighten me?" Xur's eyes widened. "No…it _excites _me. A woman who can incite such fear in the hearts of her enemies will _always_ demand respect, and she shall receive it in turn."

Trilla somewhat deadpanned. "Right…and is this failed attempt at poetry designed to have women fall head over heels for you?"

The zabrak paused, his eyes pacing away from where he leaned in…and his mind blank. "Well…_yeah_…and um…um…I'm running out of banter here, Trilla."

Discretely, she hid her mouth from a side view. "Just make it up, darling. Remember, we just met."

He sighed. "Trilla…look. You're the only woman I've ever hit on…" he trailed off as she gave him a skeptical look. "Yes…I'm not lying about that."

"Really?" she almost gasped, and he caught her blushing slightly. "Well that's…humbling."

"Why?"

She narrowed her eyes as if it were obvious. "Well, I mean, look at you. You're fit…dashing…toned…" she trailed off, and this was perhaps the first time he had ever seen her flushed. "Even in…other places."

Xur was struggling to take all of it in, and in that process, he felt his lips move without his consent. "You look very pretty, Trilla."

Adorably, she swayed to one side and blushed. "Thank you."

"And you're toned as well…in…all the right places…"

Blue and emerald eyes stared for a few moments, both of them waiting for the other to pick up the conversation…to no avail.

"What the fuck is going on?" Xur asked before giving into laughter just as she did, and they both shared a hefty spur of it as the awkwardness of the moment wore off. "Can we talk normal now?"

"Yes, we can talk normal now," Trilla giggled, wiping tears from her eyes.

They spent the rest of the time conversing normally, sharing intense laughs that sometimes drew the attention of surrounding tables, but they could care less. The two of them were having more fun than they cared what to do with, and Trilla's never-ending bright smile was all he could ever ask for. When their food finally came, she ate so much that he had even forked over some of his own, very much feeling the hunger pangs of pregnancy, which in itself resulted in more jokes and laughs. She even had dessert, even if Xur passed, and once their meal came to a close, he led her through the packed streets of the arcology with her arm wrapped in his. Passing by outlet stores and holographic billboards, a cool, artificial breeze blew through the air, giving almost a winter vibe to it all.

Xur shivered slightly, and Trilla giggled as she pulled in closer. "Are you cold, darling?"

He shook his head, but his chattering teeth betrayed him. "Zabraks aren't bred for the cold, h-hun."

"And here I thought a man was meant to keep his woman warm," she remarked, kissing him on the cheek.

"And I've heard _mamas_ have a natural affinity for keeping others warm," he countered, although more as a compliment.

Trilla sighed blissfully. "Oh…I cannot wait to hear that name; their tiny hands reaching up to me as I cradle them in my arms; their adorable little laughs."

Xur laughed. "Yeah…you're going to be a kickass mama. I can already tell."

"I've been thinking of using that spare room we have on the Fury. Maybe we can purchase a crib and place it in there. We'll also have to consider decorations. I have some ideas for perhaps some wallpaper-."

"Why don't we talk baby logistics another time?" Xur urged, although trying to sound more comforting than rude.

The desired effect really didn't translate within her. "I'm sorry…I just surmised you'd be more excited about this."

"I am, I am…it's just…" he trailed off, and immediately he regretted ever bringing up his deep concerns.

"Sweetheart…what?" she crept in close, soothingly running her hand over his back. "If you're worried about it…I want you to tell me. I won't be upset."

Xur sighed. "Honestly Trilla…are we really ready for this? We haven't exactly had this conversation properly yet. I-I know about what I said on Ziost, but the dynamic has changed now…you know?"

"Okay," she tipped her head, and their pace slowed once they hit a large plaza, no longer needing to keep up with the fast-moving pedestrians. "I agree with that. So let's have it."

"I thought we were on our first date…"

Trilla chuckled. "Darling, we've been _dating_ for quite some time now…in fact I'd say we're certainly a couple."

"You _are_ my girlfriend," he conceded. "And baby mama."

She snorted as laughter escaped her, and they came to an open bench for two in front of a quiet and intricately beautiful fountain, its colors shifting every interval. Taking a seat, Xur found it in himself to lean back against the rest, but Trilla shifted her body to face him just as her giggles dissipated.

"For the record, I will not refer to you as my baby daddy."

Xur scoffed. "I never expected you to."

Once their joking faded away, Trilla adopted a semi-serious expression, clasping his closest hand into her own. "Alright…what are you most worried about?"

The zabrak sighed, his eyes pacing away to the sporadic crowd that walked through the plaza, and spotting a few children running around with their parents desperately trying to keep them close. Trilla's gaze never left him, and once he ran out of reasons to stall, he spoke from his heart.

"I'm scared," he admitted.

Her other hand fell atop his, massaging it for comfort. "Of what?"

"Trilla, look," he began, his fear turning his tone sourer than he intended. "You know, you talk about setting up a crib on the Fury, but the Fury is a warship whether you like it or not. One bad day…one lucky shot to our starboard side that fries the shield, and our baby's gone. That's all it takes."

Trilla sighed. "Xur, that's _always_ all it takes."

"But it's bigger than that. Kids here…they don't have to worry about being ambushed every night. Our kid…they're going to be living in fear, and the truth is, we won't always be able to be there for them," he then stopped her before she could say what he knew was coming. "_We'll find a way_ doesn't work. It's foolhardy and reckless."

"I wasn't going to say that," she eased, and the amount of restraint and understanding she was displaying was surprising. "You are right…but who are we to deny this child at least a chance?"

He sighed at that. "I don't know…"

Trilla leaned in, pulling at his chin to have him face her. "I can't tell you this child won't change our lives…because it will…but our lives have changed so much in such a short time. What's one more?"

Xur wanted them to have this child…that much was certain…but he wanted to be sure it received a childhood that would not scar it forever, and at least gave them a chance to be what they desired. He and Trilla had suffered much in their respective upbringings, and he had vowed that they would never have to go through what he did, otherwise he'd be one shitty ass father.

And yet Trilla's constant assurances did not fall upon deaf ears, and he certainly trusted her with his life…and much more than that. He'd fought for her and won her back, and now he should take advantage of the chance he had been given…not give in to fear. If the love of his life wanted to have a child…then he would grant her as much.

That reminded him of something else.

He rose to his feet, pulling her along. "Come on, I've got one last surprise for you."

* * *

Trilla chuckled as they came to a door at the end of a narrow hallway, and Xur slid in a keycard through the narrow, black slot. "Did you get us a room?"

The zabrak waited for the satisfying dig with the flashing green light, and then winked. "Maybe."

Opening the door for her to step through, Trilla was greeted to a lavish and extravagant room, its style royal yet modern, spacious with a large bed, bath and shower. The carpet sunk with each step as she gleamed, and once her eyes spotted the small balcony pool through the sliders, she gasped.

"Oh, I'm getting in," she declared. "Are you _shitting_ me?"

"Nope," Xur shook his head as he shut the door, being sure to apply the _Do Not Disturb_ placard. "That, sweetheart, is a pool."

She clenched both fists with excitement, and then rushed back to wrap her arms around him tightly, a move that stunned him until she pulled away. "You are one _smart_ man."

Xur cleared his throat as he recovered. "Okay…why _smart?_"

Her excitement dissipated, and instead gave way to an almost devious smile of anticipation. "Go on, get in."

The zabrak cocked his head. "Well…what about you?"

Trilla stepped away, already unbuttoning her jacket as she paced to the shower room. "I'll be out, but only if you go first."

Xur ignorantly scoffed as she disappeared. "Alright…" he proceeded to undress himself into only his undergarments…which were waterproof, just as he planned. With a wave of his hand, the sliding glass door opened, and he dipped himself into the soothing pool at a perfect temperature, feeling the soreness of the day ease itself. Groaning as he sat in the shallow water, he exhaled through his nose and let his head fall back in a state of total relaxation.

"Xur…"

When he opened his eyes, Trilla was sinking in beside him…and wearing perhaps the most eye-candy swimwear he had ever seen. His eyes literally got away with looking at all the places they had ever wished, while also keeping her covered to not consider her nude. It was…not like her…but he found her body too intoxicating to look away from.

"I have my surprises too…" she smiled adorably, sinking in beside him, before pointing her finger. "Although…best enjoy this now, because I'm burning this ridiculous costume tomorrow morning."

Xur chuckled. "I have no objections to that."

Trilla cocked her head. "You don't like it?"

He found himself stammering as he lost his eyes in her cleavage but cursed to himself for his lack of maturity. "It's fine…I just don't want you to think you have to dress in that to make me think you're attractive."

She nodded knowingly. "Oh, I know. I was thinking more along the lines of a _reward_ of sorts. Besides, I know once this baby gets a little bigger, I'll have to say goodbye to these kind of things for a moment."

Xur smiled, scooting towards her, and she caught the hint, pulling her legs over his so he could hold her in his arms, letting her own wrap around his neck. "You being here with me is more of a reward than I could've ever asked for."

Trilla blushed.

"And honestly…if you wore a poncho, I'd think you were sexy."

She snorted loudly into laughter that pulled her head back. "I'm not so sure about _that_," she admitted. "But now you're making me want to remove this silly thing."

"No, no, no!" Xur shook his head. "It's…great. I love it, actually."

His beautiful brunette girlfriend winked his way. "Good."

Her final adorable gesture was what sent him over the edge. Losing control, he pulled her in, and their tongues entwined passionately as he impressed a hungry kiss upon her, almost crushing her smaller frame in his grip. Taking command in a role reversal from usual, he situated himself between her legs, pushing her against the back of the pool as he pressed deeper, devouring the sweet taste of her lips. Trilla's eyes shut as she let herself fall limp, giving him full access to wherever he wished.

Once he was done with her lips, he kissed her neck intensely, an action that had her groaning with pleasure as he did so. She pressed her hands against his chest, squeezing his muscles as she let her head fall back, and by then they both were in a state of passionate bliss.

Pulling away to take a breath, Xur reached underneath the water. "Let's make this a night to remember."

Trilla narrowed her eyes. "Xur…" before they bulged wide, and she gasped.

* * *

_You said you loved meeeeeee!_

_ I know…and I still do! I will always love you!_

_ You're a liar! Such a terrible liar! *overacting sobbing*_

"_Ugh_, this is dreadful," Trilla rolled her eyes at the current movie playing on their holoscreen, her head resting on Xur's shoulder beneath their bedsheets. "She's not even trying to make it believable."

Xur nodded in agreement, his head propped up by the pillows, calling the remote back into his hand. "Yeah, this is pretty bad," switching the channel, coming up with sporadic episodes from various shows neither of them had ever bothered to become acquainted with. Eventually he settled for a sporting event he couldn't identify, and elected to mute the sound, pulling Trilla in close.

"You know I love you, right?" Trilla asked, snuggling into his grip, to which he caressed her shoulder with his thumb.

"I know."

She then giggled, clambering atop of him, their skin rubbing against one another with their movements. "It's unlike you to do all the work as well."

He smiled, keeping her in his grip. "I figured I'd give mommy a break this time."

"Hmmm…didn't mommy tell daddy that she doesn't _want_ him to do all the work?" she asked, provocatively pressing forward, proceeding to sit up on her knees. "And mommy likes her chance to make daddy happy."

"Daddy's always happy when mommy is with him."

Her deep giggle and long sigh gave him shivers as she leaned into his ear. "Well, daddy made mommy _very_ happy today…and now she wants to return the favor."

She did, and by the end, they could say without a doubt that this had been the best night of their lives.

* * *

**Next: Someone makes her explosive return into the Star Wars Eons universe…**


	36. Smells Like Teen Spirit

**Smells Like Teen Spirit**

"We're all just entertainers."

**19 BBY – **_**Resolute**_

"So that's it? We're just going to abandon Bo Katan and her people?" Ahsoka vehemently protested, her arms crossed and scowl evident as the battle sirens blared around the hangar bay.

"Ahsoka, surely you understand that this is a pivotal moment in the Clone War," Obi-Wan justified while Anakin could only awkwardly stand by while the two argued. "Coruscant is under attack…the heart of the Republic."

"I _understand_, that as usual you're playing politics," she spat, more frustration behind her tone than venom. "I'm not going to let all the work I did go to waste, not when Bo Katan and I are this close."

Obi-Wan sighed. "You can't let your selfishness cloud your judgment, Ahsoka. Right now, the people of Coruscant need us."

Ahsoka could tell that her former master was in agreement with her but had elected to stay silent. Ever since she had been promoted to Jedi Knight only recently, Anakin had been more lenient in letting her pursue her own leads or missions, and to think of throwing off a good lead on Maul's location was utter madness from her view.

Sometimes she wished she _had_ left the Order instead of listening to her friend's pleas for her to wait out the war. It was some feigned sense of duty that she felt she owed to the galaxy, and if she left then it would only be an abandonment of that obligation…but that obligation only became weaker as time pressed on, and after she and Xur had a relative fallout of their friendship, her ties to the Jedi had been strained to the breaking point.

Not to mention the _other_, more sensitive fallout that she had kept to herself.

"The _Chancellor_ needs us," she corrected, stalwart and stubborn on her viewpoint.

Now Anakin decided to step in, which was what she expected. "Ahsoka…"

"I am not coming with you to Coruscant, Master," she denied. "Whether you approve it or not, Bo Katan needs my help, and she's going to get it."

Subtly she could sense that her ultimatum did not resonate well within either of them, but she knew that they both respected a passionate stance behind what was right, Anakin especially so.

Anakin sighed. "I'll…divide the five-oh-first, and create a new division under Ahsoka's command," he suggested, which earned a tested glance from Obi-Wan who seemed more fed up with arguing about it than anything else.

"I don't like this…" he admitted. "But if you are not willing to let this go, and Anakin will accommodate you…then very well."

Ahsoka suppressed a sigh of relief, and only bowed in gratitude. "Thank you."

"_Anakin, we need to move_," Xur's voice came in through his wrist-comm. "_I've already thrown together a response team_."

"Good," Anakin replied. "Don't worry, we'll be right behind you."

His communication died after that with the urgency, and Ahsoka felt a pang to her heart with his unwillingness to speak with her, but she set it aside. The reason behind their divide was much more childish than she was willing to admit…but it was enough.

"One thing, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan pulled her from her train of thought. "I killed Maul once. Best to capture him. He doesn't seem to stay dead."

She tipped her head. "I'll consider that. Thank you."

Obi-Wan disappeared through the exit doorway soon after, leaving her alone with Anakin, who seemed very anxious to get going. The togruta smirked at that, and he smiled back, despite the tension between them.

"I'm sorry about this…Master."

"Don't be," he waved off. "You're following your heart, just like I taught you."

Ahsoka smiled awkwardly, and Anakin took his cue to turn away. Something ate at her to stop him, and it was almost instinct that had her call out, "Anakin!" He stopped and turned back, and when she didn't know what to tell him, she said, "Good luck."

All he granted her was a reassuring smile, before the door closed.

That was the last time she ever saw him.

* * *

**13 BBY – Lorrd **

The cold splash of water against Ahsoka's face was becoming less effective the more times she tried it as a method of waking herself up, and the brisk yet cooling feeling it granted her was beginning to diminish as well. Nightmares were things she had become accustomed to by now, but none worse were the ones that entailed her former, and certainly deceased, master. They had never ceased, not even long after the last time she had ever felt him within the Force, and the pang of regret that followed was relentless.

There were so many things she'd dreamed herself saying to him just before that sheet of durasteel stole him from her, or just the many times she had passed up a chance to speak to him while she was on Mandalore…right before her world was destroyed. How many chances escaped her just because she took the present for granted?

After Order 66 she was faced with a choice, live every day like it was her last, or don't live at all. She'd chosen the latter, as the former would certainly get her killed one way or another, and with all the good she _could_ do, it felt like an obligation to commit herself to helping others against the Empire.

_There I go again…with those damn obligations._

Ahsoka had begun to wonder at which point enough became enough and whether going out fighting against the Empire was a better option than constant hit and run attacks from her various agents across the galaxy. She'd done good work thus far under the codename "Fulcrum", maintaining a vast collection of Imperial information through the loyalties of those she had saved, or the connections she had to some in the Imperial Senate. Her importance as an information broker had her doing more coordinating than fighting, which was somewhat of a nice change of pace. Almost none of her agents knew her real name as to maintain secrecy, and as far as the Empire was concerned, Ahsoka Tano was long dead.

Work had been slow for a while, her attacks safe and so small that the Empire mostly ignored her efforts, that was until a hydrogen bomb was detonated on the planet Nur. While the Empire had masterfully covered up the incident, she had already become very aware of its true entailment, even if the death of her agent within the Inquisitorious cut off her supply of information. Fortress Inquisitorious had been vaporized from the inside, and since, Ahsoka had seen much less reports of Inquisitors prowling for Jedi survivors, which means that their disaster had the intended consequences of the assailant. The details were shoddy at best, and the people involved only less so. From what she could gather, a high member of the Imperial brass defected and allowed an incursion team to slip through and destroy the Fortress, which had Imperial losses in the thousands, as well as the deaths of whichever Inquisitors were currently stationed there.

She could only hope imprisoned Jedi were not among those losses.

The sink knob squeaked as she shut off the flowing water, deciding not to dwell on the details much. What mattered was that now the Imperial network was in utter chaos as wind of what had occurred reached the ears of those looking to exploit it…as well as the lesser known rumors of a supposed Greater Imperium amassing insurgent forces in an orbiting dwarf galaxy. Ahsoka wasn't even sure if that were true, and the Empire has been even less successful than she'd been searching for answers. Even so, the implications that came with something as outlandish as that had people on both sides frantic and uneasy.

Ahsoka looked at herself in the mirror, swiping up a towel to dry her bronze skin, and then proceeded to dress herself, pulling over her gauntlets, boots and all. Gesturing for her door to slide open, she was greeted to her computer setup within her personal ship the _Shadowbolt_, which was an over-the-top name and a gift from her supporter in the Senate. With top notch stealth systems, it was quick and virtually untraceable, serving her very well to stay out of the Empire's gaze while also maintaining her connections. She'd only been on Lorrd for a few days, and the icy planet had been the center of no one's attention as its resources were virtually depleted by now.

What _was_ the center of her attention was the crashed ship she had been investigating since she had arrived. Touching down in a ruined heap at the edge of Lorrd's north pole, the vessel was unlike anything she'd ever seen, and she'd only barely begun to scratch the surface on its design.

Today she'd just have to try a bit harder.

Once she confirmed she had no new developments for today, she pulled over her coat, concealing her constructed hilts. Applying protective goggles with a snap of the latex strap behind her head, her hood came next, and she lowered the loading ramp…

And immediately she felt something was different from yesterday.

* * *

"_Say hi to Daddy!_"

Xur could only hear a jumble of the old cliché "goo-goo" and "ga-ga" from his newborn daughter as he listened in over his wrist comm, marching through the snow as he approached his destination. The adorable jumble made him chuckle to himself, "_Hi_ Katara…"

Trilla laughed back as Katara continued to mumble within the comm. "_I've been doing my best to keep her occupied, which is a harder challenge than you may think._"

"Oh, trust me, I know," Xur replied, keeping his eyes forward as the perfect white that the snow adopted became sullied by a black streak of a crash landing. "You forget that the last time I held her she threw up on my chest."

He wasn't a huge fan of that.

"_Awww…did you throw up on Daddy?_" she cooed, and Katara responded, making her chuckle. "_She says you're a liar._"

"The idea that you understand that gibberish actually sounds feasible, to be honest," he admitted, fighting off a shiver. The insulation his suit provided was working wonders, as well as the application of his helmet staving off frostbite from claiming his nose.

"_I guess you'll just have to trust me for translation, as always_," he could tell she winked at the end of that, even if he couldn't see her.

"Is she going to speak fifty languages like you?"

Trilla scoffed. "_Not if she's her father's daughter_."

"Ouch," Xur winced. "I'm sorry I spent most of my time learning how to fight instead of focusing on obscure words I'll never need to know."

"_Those obscure words have freed us from trouble on many occasions_," she continued, and he heard her set Katara down in her capsule for now.

"Nothing a good lightsaber couldn't've fixed."

She groaned. "_You're such a brute__. Perhaps next time you require such translations I will purposely do so incorrectly._"

"You'd just be screwing yourself over most of the time."

"_I'll take those odds._"

Xur snorted. "Ah…of course you would," she was petty that way.

"_When are you coming back?_"

The zabrak groaned. "I've been gone for a day…"

"_You speak as if that isn't a long time_," her tone became more measured, almost a warning that tried to hide her pleading.

"Trilla…I promised Reyna I'd look into this," he reminded her, which was the only reason they had set down on this ice ball in the first place. "Besides, I got a good feeling about this one."

She hesitated for a moment, and he heard her step into another room, likely her training set up. "_You better not be saying that just to make me feel better._"

"You'll be alright, Trilla," he insisted, stopping once he approached the ship crash he had been tailing.

"_You want to know why I'm worried?_"

He indulged her. "Why?"

"_Because I have a _bad_ feeling about this one_."

Xur chuckled, but she didn't seem to find it as amusing as he did. "You're paranoid. Don't do that. It will only stress you out."

"_I can't help it with your carefree attitude_," she snapped.

"It's going to be fine, Trilla."

"_If you insist_," she accepted, and he heard her undressing her heavier clothing to begin training, to which he had to settle to imagine her doing so for his enjoyment. "_But when I have to bail you out…I'll be certain to say I told you so._"

"I wouldn't even be mad at that point, hun," he admitted, and then knew he had to get to work. "I love you."

"_I love you too_," she answered. "_Stay safe please._"

"I will," he promised, and the connection died…as did a part of his current joy. He knew trying to ease Trilla's longingness for him to be around was a two-way street, also attempting to convince _himself_ that he'd be alright. This was the first extended period in which they were away from each other, and it hurt more than he would admit. Having her radiant personality not be present was like losing a limb almost, if not just to have her hand in his…or to just feel her soothing presence nearby. All of that was so faint now…insufficient.

It only showed him how much he loved her…and it was all the more reason to wrap this investigation up quickly.

Circling the wreck, it became immediately apparent that this may not be an easy task, as the ship was truly unlike any he had ever seen before. Upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that none of it was made of durasteel…more of a rocky hull that towered above him. The closest resemblance he could come up with was perhaps washed up coral on a beach, or maybe even an asteroid.

And the stench was _foul_…like thousands of dead bodies left to rot in the hot sun.

"Looking for something?"

Xur's eyes bulged behind his helmet, and he swore he had just heard a ghost.

* * *

**13 BBY – Coruscant **

Vader never took a seat for any congregation of the Empire's lesser men, and even less so for the high brass of the Imperial Navy. The simple gesture already entailed a dead weight loss to his intimidation factor, a very powerful tool at his disposal that could not afford any kind of diminishment. These men in stuffed shirts and pressed tunics quickly forwent their pompous behavior when in his presence, and while the Dark Lord experienced no amusement, that was the closest he would ever come to it.

Even so, the news of his failure to prevent the annihilation of Fortress Inquisitorious had already caught fire within the brass long ago, which made his intimidation factor all the more valuable as the boldness of these scavengers became more apparent. Many of them hid behind his master's protection, and the man sitting in the most extravagant chair around the table was perhaps the guiltiest of that heinous crime. Grand Moff Tarkin had trained perhaps the most devastating inside operative to ever strike against the Empire, and yet he had navigated the minefield that surrounded him masterfully, disregarding the insurgent former Admiral Vorchenko as ever being his student in proper…and the Empire had bought it. Only a few still held him accountable, Vader being one of those few, but not enough of those who mattered.

Since, Tarkin had surrounded himself with potential solutions to patch the nearly fatal hull damage Vorchenko had wreaked upon the Empire and had thus began questioning of all those who were closest to her. This investigation had about as much success as Vader's attempts to track down Xur Eon and Trilla Suduri, two of his own loose ends that had remained mostly secretive for now. Eon had been eluding his gaze for years, and he'd trained Suduri to be the most lethal and silent hunter the Empire had to offer, two facts that were now proving detrimental to the continued stability of the Empire.

How Suduri had managed to break from his hold was an even greater mystery.

The Jedi could've found the two of them by merely peering into the Force, but Darth Vader was just as blind as ever, which made about as much sense as Tarkin's ability to come out unscathed from the entire ordeal. With all his power, he should be able to latch on to the old connections he still retained from The Jedi, but it was as if he was being actively blocked…_shielded_.

Vader was never frightened, but the idea of a being other than his master projecting enough power to shield Eon and Suduri from his sight…was intriguing to say the least, should it even be true.

The Dark Lord tabled that thought for another time.

Colonel Yularen had been the one speaking through Vader's thought processes, mostly political lingo and careful maneuvers that Vader never found useful in his own pursuits.

That was until he actively began to argue with Tarkin himself.

"I find you accusations unfounded and utterly ridiculous, Governor," Yularen protested, his white mustache the most defining feature he bore. "Agent Elena Markov has proven her loyalty to the Empire time and time again. Do not attempt to sink one of my students immediately after one of yours commits high treason."

"A pity we do not have an institution to investigate such threats to Imperial security," Tarkin slickly bit back. "Your reputation is at stake, Colonel."

"My reputation is precisely why your accusations are baseless," Yularen countered. "Agent Markov is loyal to the Empire, and she has been adamant in her request to help track down your traitorous Admiral."

"That will be quite unnecessary. Reyna Vorchenko is, by all means, long gone, and that fault falls squarely on the shoulders of the now deceased Admiral Slovis, whose incompetence was allowed to flourish under the eyes of our own Lord Vader," Tarkin's eyes turned to him, and Vader granted him nothing, knowing a response was precisely what the Moff desired. "As well as the obvious ineffectiveness of our mystic division to deal with Force-sensitives who have the greatest potential of inflicting maximum damage. If I am not mistaken, one had even defected…"

Tarkin was brilliant at shifting the subject, and Vader knew better than to take part in the vicious cycle of blame that continued. The fact of the matter was the Empire had failed as a whole to contain this situation, and it was turning the entire high brass against one another. The Dark Lord was never one to back down, but inciting discord within command was counter-productive, and created breeding grounds for dissent to flourish during its chaos.

And increasing dissent only enticed more traitors to become bolder, something the Empire could not afford at this time, not with the Inquisitorious in shambles and the high brass covering its own bases. Whatever solution they came up with at this gathering had to be a convincing one that satisfied all problems at once…and it was very rare that one solution ever did.

Vader's silence proved to be eerie enough to ward Tarkin away, and he finally seemed to conclude his tirade. "Fortunately, we may have a solution to solve both problems simultaneously. Our Emperor has assigned Commodore Thrawn," he motioned towards the chiss male who had sat quietly at the other end of the round table. "To begin studying these insurgents…as well as offering an alternative solution for the foolhardy use of the Inquisitorious."

Had his master not made it clear many times that Tarkin was not to be harmed, he would've snapped the man's neck then and there.

Tarkin tipped his head. "Commodore…you may proceed."

"Thank you, Governor," Thrawn bowed in return. "From what I can gather thus far, it is quite apparent to me that former Admiral Vorchenko's greatest strength is that she does not think like any regular rebel or insurgent we have yet come across. You have stated before, Moff Tarkin, that you trained her yourself, and is aware of many typical Imperial strategies, if not all of them. Simply put, the Empire has not faced an enemy such as this before."

This blue-skinned and red-eyed man certainly specialized in stating the obvious.

"The same can be said for her very close Jedi ally, Xur Eon, who, as it were, does not exercise the typical assumptions that come from such warriors. The Inquisitorious tends to use collateral damage via civilian casualties to draw out their Jedi prey, but Eon has proven to not care how many of the Empire's own people they kill, and has used that to terminate…_eight_ inquisitors, if I am not mistaken."

His eyes were on Vader for his confirmation, and the Dark Lord only rumbled. "Correct."

"Even when bending the Second Sister to your will, a woman close to him, in an effort to shatter his resolve, it only seemed to embolden his attacks, as well as make him an even more dangerous opponent. He is…by my interpretation, a strategically sound Jedi Knight, and a combination of his resolve with Vorchenko's knowledge of Imperial strategy creates a nigh-invincible combination to oppose our Emperor's rule."

Hearing Thrawn praise Xur Eon made Vader want to cut him down.

Tarkin cocked his head. "So what is your proposal?"

Thrawn shrugged. "It is quite simple, Governor…we change the game."

* * *

**13 BBY – Lorrd **

Ahsoka had never thought her voice to be that ominous, or even _stunning_ for that matter, but the way the armored man she stumbled across reacted challenged that assumption. Her hands were already wrapped around her hilts beneath her coat, but she did not draw them, not yet. They weren't Imperial…that much was certain, but he didn't exactly adopt a friendly pose.

That was until he uttered her name in a barely detectable whisper.

The togruta's hands flinched slightly, and she cocked her head. "You're a little excessively dressed for a bounty hunter."

"Huh?" he questioned; voice projected by his helmet. "Oh…the _suit_."

When he reached up, she jerked again, but he held his hands out in an easing manner, and she allowed him to unhinge his helmet and reveal his face.

Ahsoka could not muster any words in Basic as her mouth gaped open in shock, and now it was _her_ turn to be stunned. Despite his unshaved black hair, Xur Eon looked almost exactly as she remembered last seeing him…that angular-diamond shaped head and lack of black tattoos against his crimson skin. The last time she'd ever saw him…it was so long ago, and it hadn't ended well.

"I thought you were dead," he admitted.

Ahsoka felt her head shake involuntarily. "I thought _you_ were dead…_twice_."

Barriers were shattered in that moment, and suddenly neither of them seemed to care how they parted ways. With blissful excitement, they ran to each other and embraced, bathing in the incredible revelation that despite all that had happened, they had both managed to keep breathing and find each other once again. His armor admittedly poked up against her coat, but she didn't care…she was so happy to see him.

When they finally pulled away, Xur gleamed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," she smiled back. "As well as all this shady activity you've been up to."

Her reveal made him take a step back, cocking his head. "What do you mean?"

"Don't do that to me," she crossed her arms, but made sure to project a friendly demeanor. "You owe me some stories, that's for sure."

"Last I checked, you and I were squared away," he narrowed his eyes. "And maybe we'll get to that. You still haven't answered my first question."

Ahsoka shrugged. "What do you _think_ I'm here for?"

Xur caught on quickly, which was one of his good traits, able to adapt to a rapidly changing situation on a dime. "You're asking for an expedition partner."

"I'm _asking_ if you're here to help me," she corrected.

"If that's what you're offering."

"It is."

Xur mulled that, and eventually adopted a smirk. "I'm not digging."

"That's fine," Ahsoka accepted. "I just want you to talk."

* * *

**13 BBY – Coruscant **

Agent Elena Markov sincerely hoped her skills were better recognized as a dissent diffuser than a mere translator. Years of training under the Imperial Security Bureau after enlisting at 18 promised her much in terms of being able to use her wits and fire a blaster from time to time, and her side vocation of learning the chiss language Cheunh was seen merely as an elective.

Now it restricted her to escort duty, as well as her recently wrapped-up investigation into her fraying connection to one treasonous Admiral Reyna Vorchenko. While they had not been overly invasive upon her, they hadn't exactly been observant of her privacy, and it was brutal to realize how quickly her superiors would turn on her once something catastrophic such as this took place. Everyone was looking for a scapegoat, and she'd been lucky enough to escape with the backing of Colonel Yularen.

The gold in her eyes was a total contrast to the red that the armored chiss female beside her bore, her slightly shorter counterpart keeping her eyes focused forward. Dressed in the typical black and red for Imperial special forces, the white Imperial insignia was painted on both her shoulder plates, and her composite armor fit snugly around her frame.

"You have to try to speak Basic in front of them," Markov reminded her, and the chiss looked at her with a stark, barely understanding gaze. "_Tisut Bipim, ttis'ah_," she translated in Cheunh.

She looked flushed and slightly unsure of herself, which was an expression she had only ever shown to her. "I try," she responded, heavily accented. "Thrawn show me few words, but…" she struggled. "…_hah cart chitcuto_."

"Difficult," she sounded out.

"_Difficult_. Yes," she nodded.

Markov sighed. The Empire had never been kind to aliens, and while she'd only known the science experiment of a girl for a short time, the slight innocence she displayed made her worry for her feelings…even after seeing what she could do.

"Let's just hope your fighting ability impresses them," she eased, to which the chiss seemed to understand after a moment of staring.

Their time was up anyhow. Through the sliding durasteel door walked Commodore Thrawn, followed by Governor Tarkin, Colonel Yularen…and Darth Vader. Markov had only ever seen the Emperor's frightening enforcer once before, and that was from a distance. Up close, all of the stories she'd ever heard about him were instantly confirmed, towering over the other officers with room to spare…not to mention his incessant _breathing_.

It only made her feel even worse for her new chiss friend.

"_Ritocum_, Vigan'era'hrorra," Thrawn greeted with a slight bow, to which she bowed back in return. "Gentlemen, this is Nerah, as I am sure you would prefer to refer to her by her core name. She recently arrived here from Csilla and will be part of my proposed response to the rising dissent within the Empire."

Tarkin looked on with a bit of skepticism. "I am unsure how a mere child will be able to have much success in this endeavor, Commodore."

Nerah didn't seem to notice or understand his mild insult, but Markov felt her expression twitch into a scowl momentarily.

"I assure you, Governor, she is perhaps the most lethal and devastating warrior my people have produced from our strict military caste, and it was only careful maneuvering that landed her into my care," Thrawn explained, tipping his head. "She has received a few natural enhancements that increase her speed, strength, agility and senses."

Nerah cleared her throat. "_Super soldier_."

At least the word wiped some skepticism away…aside from Vader, to which Markov could not tell.

"Is she fluent in Basic?" Yularen asked.

Thrawn was about to answer, but Nerah stepped in before he could. "Understand…okay. Speak…_difficult_."

Yularen turned his eyes to Markov, to which the rest followed. "She's making great progress," the ISB agent reported. "After only a week she's gone from a clean slate to sentence formation, and she understands most words."

Vader seemed impatient, and less interested. "If she is a super soldier, then I require a demonstration."

"And you shall have it, my lord," Thrawn promised, turning to the large hangar that had been outfitted as a subtle training course, and then made a gesture to an officer working in the distance. Almost on cue, stormtroopers assembled around the course, preparing a gauntlet for Nerah to run. "I have constructed this to display her skills first-hand, and if you require any further proof, you are welcome to introduce new elements."

Tarkin massaged his chin for a moment but seemed to be in agreement. "Very well. I suppose there is no harm in seeing if she is capable of what you claim."

"Excellent. Agent Markov, if you would escort Nerah to her position," Thrawn directed. "The rest of you may follow me for a better viewpoint."

* * *

**13 BBY – **_**Fury**_

Trilla sighed heavily as she pulled her robing back over to properly conceal herself, holding the infant Katara in her arms as she finished feeding her. The baby wasn't much capable of anything at her current age, but Trilla loved to simply watch her move in her arms, feeling the child's warmth as well as the soothing protective instinct that came with caring for her daughter. Already she knew she was a high-energy girl, and it took much for Trilla to wear her out before sleep finally conquered her, which spared the young mother a night full of crying and wailing.

Only a month had gone by since she gave birth, and she'd be lying if she said she never had second thoughts. It was a serious commitment, much more serious than she admittedly had imagined, resulting in a few sleepless nights that had she and Xur arguing on occasion. The misery was mounting, but Trilla's love for Katara knew no bounds, and she knew the same could be said for her father. Her daughter was so precious…truly to the point that she'd do anything to protect her.

_Anything._

Katara adorably looked around with her dark green eyes, an exotic combination against her crimson skin, which would make up for the fact that she would not develop the iconic zabrak horns. Trilla was fine with that, as the prickly things were bound to poke her a few times during her childhood. From what she could tell, and what Rava had told her, Katara's black hair was a given, as both she and Xur had black hair, and her facial structure favored Trilla more than it did Xur. Her body composition was mostly human, as since the egg was human of origin, and the commands it had been given had been mostly overridden by nature, as not to result in any major cross-species birth defects. It was a fascinating process, really.

In layman's terms, or if Trilla had to describe her daughter without an image to help, she'd say Katara was near her spitting image with a bulkier build…but that was mostly speculation. She wouldn't really know until the girl was fully grown into a woman.

Katara's eyes were beginning to shut, and Trilla bobbed up and down as she carried her over to her capsule, which had proven to be a much more efficient choice instead of a crib. The quiet insulation had proven very calming for the infant, which had been a nice counterbalance to her strength in the Force…which was very important. She was very adept at sensing animosity, and any time Trilla felt any bit of frustration or anger, Katara would begin to cry, almost like an alarm to warn her of her own feelings.

And Trilla's frustration only began to mount as each day passed with Xur not with her.

Setting her sleeping daughter within the capsule and shutting it closed, Trilla exhaled with relief as she shut the door behind her, trying to physically wipe the exhaustion from her face via her hands. It was so heavy in fact that she nearly jumped at the sight of Rava rolling around the corner.

"Apologies, Trilla," the VI bowed. "I did not mean to startle you."

Trilla groaned. "It's alright. Any word on what Xur is up to?"

"He is still on Lorrd's north pole as he reported yesterday," she relayed. "Although he has not moved much since."

He was most likely investigating the ship Vorchenko had requested, but that wouldn't take all day, and he certainly would not go a day without calling her. Xur was supposed to call in an hour ago, and it had soured her mood immensely that he still had not. Still, she took into account unforeseen events of the sort, and also the possibility that he _had_ found something, but Trilla wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep tonight if she hadn't heard from him. She'd never been able to sleep when she was the Second Sister knowing a Jedi was on the loose, but she chalked that up to her natural anxiety.

That bad feeling kept nagging her, and she was beginning to suspect he may be in trouble.

After about twenty minutes of trying to shake it off, she'd had enough.

"Rava, I'm going out to search for him. I need you to look after Katara for me," she said, already pacing to her wardrobe.

The VI began to protest. "Trilla, I hardly have the platform to be a nurse droid."

"Which is why I'm going _now_," Trilla explained. "Hopefully Katara will sleep through this whole ordeal."

Wishful thinking, at best.

Rava huffed. "Very well. I will set us down near his last location."

Trilla left her to that. She needed to get dressed.

* * *

**13 BBY – Coruscant **

Markov felt slightly out of place among the highest elites of the Empire, their eyes fixed upon the training course for Thrawn's promised demonstration. She didn't mind dealing with them from time to time, but personally observing a potential supreme asset felt well above her pay grade…so she placated that feeling by standing beside her direct superior, Colonel Yularen, that way to feel more like an aide to his service.

Thrawn asking for her opinion was ruining that immersion, as well as frustrating Darth Vader more than she was comfortable with. It was quite obvious that he preferred they all shut their mouths and watch, but it couldn't have been the first time the Dark Lord had ever had to deal with the platitudes of other elite officers.

"Has she adapted well to the new hierarchy?" Thrawn asked, to which Markov lowered her head to at least show she was slightly uncomfortable.

"She's quite quick with virtually everything, Commodore," she answered. "Her intellect is not properly displayed by her struggles with Basic."

"That remains to be seen," Tarkin remarked, perhaps the most prejudiced of the group, but that truly wasn't saying much. Yularen and Vader only cared about results, not really _who_ or _what_ gets them, and Thrawn, well, if he were prejudiced against aliens, that would be rather self-destructive.

Vader eyed the course intently as Nerah slid over her black and red helmet, priming a blaster carbine that she held at the ready, her feet set in a prepped motion. Once Thrawn seemed to have everything ready, he leaned into the intercom.

"_Cav_," he spoke, which translated to "begin". Of course, the stormtroopers, barely fluent in _Basic_, didn't know that.

Nerah fired a precise shot at a durasteel cord that held an I-beam above, severing the link. The heavy bar of durasteel swung through the course and knocked out a sharpshooter tower, and Markov could not tell if the subsequent collapse was lethal to the man atop it. She immediately charged forward, zipping around corners at a near impossible speed and firing absolutely incredible shots through alleyways that ripped through the heads of the poor men who had no idea that Nerah could care less if this were training or not.

"She immediately resolves to lethal force," Vader noted, crossing his arms. "A reputable trait."

Markov figured Vader would like that.

The super soldier was a goddess among boys when it came to a firefight, her precise shots ripping through helmets and chest pieces before any stormtrooper had time to react. Sliding over crates and tossing her weapon aside, she lunged forward towards the more prepared group of scout troopers with stun sticks, and then watched in horror as the first man's neck emitted a mighty _crack_. Arming herself with her victim's stun stick, and once the troopers realized this was a life or death scenario, Nerah engaged with terrifying grace and immense strength, sidestepping and electrocuting each of them with such ease it made Markov wince.

_My, am I glad we're friends._

"Were these men informed this was a live-fire exercise?" Yularen asked, to which Thrawn did not move to respond.

"I told Nerah to act as she deemed necessary to impress her observers," Thrawn flatly stated.

Markov wasn't a huge fan of that standpoint.

Once all the scout troopers were dispatched, either dead or in a near-fatal coma, Tarkin stopped scratching his chin. "It is obvious she outclasses basic foot soldiers by a large margin. I would like to see something more challenging."

"Send in a purge unit," Vader suggested.

"How many do you surmise?" Thrawn queried.

The Dark Lord turned his soulless gaze towards the chiss. "All of them."

Thrawn paused. "My Lord…purge units are trained to deal with Jedi, and I must protest she may be at a disadvantage against a fireteam-."

"If she can be rid of a fireteam of purge units, then she will have proved her worth to me," Vader offered, returning his optics to the field. "And we must test her ability to adapt to insurmountable odds."

Thrawn seemed content with that, as did the others. "Very well," he tapped into the comm and called in the fireteam, to which the black and red armored troopers filed into the circle Nerah had created. Armed with electrostaffs, stun batons and one with an electrohammer, they circled her like wounded prey, only she had barely broken a sweat thus far, her gloves completely clean of crimson despite the trail of bodies she had left behind.

Still, Markov felt a pang of worry for her. Purge troopers were no joke, and they were known for adapting quickly to difficult situations…but she imagined this was one they never had trained for.

The fastest with stun batons swung first, as well as another with an electrostaff, but Nerah leapt into the air, backflipping and landing atop the electrostaff wielder, her legs over his shoulders as she snapped his neck with ease. Sliding off his collapsed body, she caught the staff of the second wielder, and then proceeded to rip it free from his grip and clothesline him with his own weapon. Twirling it with a deftness, she deflected two attacks before spinning midair, swinging the long staff in a lethal circle that clobbered and stunned the remaining three, and she used that chance to wind up for a punch that cracked the black duraplast armor with one strike.

Markov blinked at that…her strength could fracture _duraplast?_

"My god," Yularen remarked, while Thrawn looked on with pride. "Why does this look frighteningly familiar?"

Thrawn kept his hands clasped behind his back as Nerah continued her work. "That is because she has been enhanced with the same serum that powered the old Separatist Project Sunstorm," he revealed. "We have made some more modern adjustments to have her maintain her physique as well as keep her personality more singular, but the results will certainly exceed that of the…_previous_ subject of this Project."

Vader had sudden supreme interest, as if the name _Sunstorm_ meant something to him.

The final purge trooper was beaten to death with his own hammer, and thus, Markov felt a bit of pride swell within her at the prospect of Nerah passing with flying colors.

"I believe I owe her an apology, Commodore Thrawn," Tarkin admitted. "Her work here exceeds all expectations."

"Indeed," Vader agreed. "I would like to take command of her assignments."

"Now, my lord, let's not be hasty…" Yularen suggested, to which Tarkin seemed to agree.

"Yes, let us not rush into who will be ordering her about."

It was hard for Markov to not smile to herself. Now that they had seen what she could do, none of them could resist getting their hands on her…quite like an agent with hundreds of contract offers to mull over.

Nerah removed her helmet, undoing her back clip to let her shoulder-length black hair flop down. "Satisfy?" she asked, and no one seemed to care that her Basic was so crude.

"Well done, Nerah," Thrawn responded through the intercom. "Come up to have a word. I believe you will have some job offers very soon."

Indeed she would…and Markov could smell some of that kicking her way as well.

* * *

**13 BBY – Lorrd **

"So you did what Obi-Wan had to do," Ahsoka surmised, allowing the white glow of her lightsaber to illuminate the rocky halls of their mysterious ship. "You never were known for your caution."

Xur kept close behind as she took the lead. "I didn't have a whole lot of room for finesse, or really options for that matter. It felt like my only choice."

The togruta grimaced. "I'm sorry about Kaidan…I liked him."

Xur tried to get her off that subject…as it never gave him any joy to reminisce on the catalyst behind his original mission. "After that, I went into the Fortress…"

"And?" her tone was measured, and he'd known Ahsoka long enough to know she didn't like where this was headed, and he mulled if it was even worth it to tell her what _really_ happened from that point on. Playing it over in his head, he could imagine the horror on her face as he recounted what he and Trilla had done in the Tion Cluster, or how he had allowed her to kill hundreds of people along the way. Xur could argue some of those people deserved it, but Ahsoka wouldn't much care.

She already didn't like Trilla much to begin with and letting her know she was the Second Sister would make her absolutely loathe the mother of his child…and he could not afford that. Having Ahsoka back in the fray was a huge win for him and his comrades, and the information web she boasted could only bolster their fight.

The zabrak figured he could get away with leaving Trilla out of the story for now. "I was on Bracca when we ran into another Jedi survivor…Cal-."

"Kestis," Ahsoka finished for him, looking up at a cracked open doorway. "One of my agents was present…working undercover like you."

Xur was surprised by that. "Who?"

"I can't tell you that," she denied, which made him feel less bad about not telling her about Trilla.

"I just let you in on a pretty little-known fact about me, Ahsoka," Xur scoffed. "And now you won't tell me who your informant was?"

He could sense her original reaction was out of instinct, and a pang of regret hit her out of the blue, and soon he felt her retracting. "They were investigating the Second Sister for me…"

Xur desperately tried to hide his heavy gulp.

"…as she'd been the most successful Inquisitor by far…"

He fought off his surprise, and then felt a natural protective instinct to know who'd been spying on his girlfriend. "Ahsoka…who?"

She was about to speak again, but she was interrupted by the doorway beside them being forced open, and the jolt had them both jump back in defense. Fingers were seen between the door seams, and when it was finally pulled apart, Xur felt the relief of Trilla's purple optic slit on the other side.

And then he remembered who he was with.

Ahsoka's white blades blazed to life, and she charged.

* * *

**Written in collaboration with and approved by DFM23.**


	37. Superbad

**Superbad**

"There's no cure for being a cunt."

**13 BBY – Lorrd **

Trilla had, or at least hoped that she had relinquished all of the nasty and horrible thoughts that had run through her mind when she had been the Second Sister. She felt that final purge when she embraced Cal Kestis on Ziost, and subsequentially when she and Cere had finally made up. Dismembering everyone who had pissed her off had been an old pastime that she had now grown beyond.

Ripping Ahsoka Tano's horns from her head seemed to be immune to all that.

When the bitch of a togruta charged at her with her blazing white beams, Trilla had fazed forward so quickly that her shoulder winded her possible assailant, and the downward swing of her yellow blade was halted by an X-guard. Years of pent up animosity directed her way exploded, and Trilla felt herself become that Inquisitor hunting Jedi again…and Tano was her prey.

Ahsoka pushed off from below but was grabbed by Xur from behind. "Hey! Stop!"

"Stop?!" she gasped in confusion, freeing herself and charging Trilla's way again. This time the togruta was extremely quick on her feet, making Trilla utilize all of her expert Form II techniques to keep her leverage against Ahsoka's intense Form IV assault. Her acrobatics were near second to none, but she had virtually no power behind her swings, and Trilla was used to far stronger opponents by now.

And Trilla was _always_ the fastest person in the room.

"Why am I not surprised?" Trilla growled in the midst of their saber lock, Ahsoka's teeth grit in a conscious effort to actively engage her. Flipping back, the Force push she unleashed sent the togruta tumbling over and back onto her feet. "Is this where you've been _hiding_ all along?" she spat, igniting the second blade on her circular hilt. "Skulking in the dark like the pathetic bitch that you are?"

"You're going to _pay_ for all the Jedi you've killed," Ahsoka swore, twirling her blades.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to come out," Trilla goaded. "You were never any good at keeping to yourself."

"Like you would know _anything_ about me!"

"HEY!" Xur bellowed, grabbing their attention in a snap. "Both of you knock it off, right _now!_"

Ahsoka's ice-blue eyes widened, and Trilla found it hard not to take the chance to beat her to death then and there. "_Both_ of you?! This is the _Second Sister!_"

"No, Ahsoka, she's _not_. The Second Sister is _dead_," Xur corrected, and then turned to Trilla. "Take off your mask."

_Like hell._

Trilla stepped forward in a confrontational manner, but that was when Xur became deadly serious. "Take off…your _fucking_ mask."

Not once had he been this firm, and it only infuriated Trilla more with the fact that it came with Ahsoka's appearance. What did she mean to him? Why does she get special treatment compared to all the others they run into?

Why is he with her _at all?_

"I thought you were in need of help," Trilla nigh snarled. "Imagine my initial thoughts when I see you here with her, _alone_. Better yet, you refused to check in at your promised interval. So now tell me, _Eon_," and it was her turn to be deadly serious. "Why should I do a _thing_ you say?"

"Dammit, Trilla, we're not going over this _again_," Xur stepped forward, but that was when Ahsoka put the pieces together, and her look of horror solidified.

"Y-you're…the Second Sister…you're _Trilla?_" she stammered, and Trilla grumbled in frustration, unhinging her helmet.

"In the fucking flesh," she confirmed, tossing it aside and marching towards Xur, stopping just before her forehead collided into his own. "You've got some _thorough_ explaining to do to get yourself out of this shit-heap," and then pointed to Ahsoka. "If I _ever_ see her with you again, I will personally _space_ you out my fucking airlock."

Trilla expected him to back down, but she had never been more wrong in her entire existence.

"Grow up, Trilla," he demanded. "After everything we've been through…you _honestly_ believe I would do this to you?"

"After everything _I've_ been through, I've known to never expect perfect bliss to last forever," she stubbornly retorted, and then stomped off…feeling her heart wrench in the process, but she was far too angry to care. "Perhaps I'll just leave you here with her, since that's what you've always wanted isn't it?!"

His frustration was present, but his own emotional outbreak was starting to get to him. "Trilla, you know that's not true."

"Do I?" she felt tears well up under her eyes, the weight of her dormant insecurity crashing down upon her with an overwhelming and brutally crushing force. "How do I know this is not the first time?"  
"I didn't even know she was alive!"

"_Liar!_" she shouted, her tears smudging her makeup as she shook with rage. "That's what you are…that's what you've _always_ been. All you've _ever_ done is lie to me! You never stopped pretending to be at my side…you just adopted a new disguise…a Xur Eon who loved _me_ instead of _her!_"

"I have _never_ lied to you," he promised, his own tears beginning to appear. "_Never!_ For fuck sake Trilla, I love you! I don't know what more proof you need!"

"Stay away from me," she growled, something within her mind overriding all logic, continuously playing every time Xur had ever been dishonest, every time she imagined him with this woman she loathed so intensely.

She hated her…and she wanted to hate _him_ for it.

"Trilla _please…_" he begged, which he _never_ did. Trilla gave it an honest effort, looking into his eyes with infinite malice, trying to regain that intense hatred she once bore, but there was no root to take hold. All possible niches for her to utilize were long buried and covered up, and her undying rage for Ahsoka could not, under any circumstances stay with Xur for long.

Then her wrist-comm beeped.

With a warning gaze upon Xur, she answered it. "Rava?"

"_Trilla…Katara is wailing uncontrollably_," the VI reported, and Trilla's eyes widened. "_She appears to be absolutely terrified of something I cannot identify_."

It was only then that Trilla had realized what she had done. She'd let her rage get the better of her…and nearly severed the most beautiful thing she'd ever experienced because of it…all due to her continued and embarrassing insecurity, one that stemmed long before she had ever donned that mask for the first time.

Since she had first learned of the togruta on Ossus…and it was _terrifying_ her daughter through their bond in the Force.

"I-I'll be over in a moment," she stammered, her rage dissipating as she severed the link. It was hard, but she swallowed her pride. "I…I've done it again, haven't I? Six years…have I _truly_ not changed at all?"

"Of course you have, Trilla," Xur insisted, trying to take her hand, only to see her pull away.

"You promised me you never lied," she warned.

"I'm not lying," he promised, and his look was hard, sincere and unbreaking. "We all have our moments."

Ahsoka dared to step forward, but the fierce look she gave her halted her in her tracks. "Trilla, look. I honestly thought both of you were dead as of a day ago. I'm not a liar. You know this."

Trilla couldn't refute that. It was one of the traits she hated so much about her; the obligation to continuous righteousness regardless of the situation…but it was also the one that made it impossible for her to slip a lie by Trilla's awareness. She was too…_good_ to do it, and Ahsoka wouldn't be able to keep an affair with her boyfriend to herself for long, not if she knew it was a blatantly sinful act.

All on top of the fact that Ahsoka swung first, meaning she was _certain_ that Trilla truly was the Inquisitor she used to be.

The embarrassment weighed down upon her, and as the strain mounted, she looked away. "I need to check on my daughter."

"Trilla…" Xur grasped her shoulder, and she stopped, gulping heavily as she called her helmet back into her hand.

"Xur…I need…I need some time, please," she shook him off, reapplying her helmet and marching into the snow.

Xur sighed as she left him, and he felt Ahsoka approach from behind. "I'm…I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-."

"It's not your fault," Xur insisted. "This is something she and I have to settle…I'm just sorry you had to be the center of it."

Ahsoka shrugged. "Well, I'm used to drama when you're around."

Xur popped his brow. "Yeah…I'm still pretty bad at this feelings stuff."

"That's okay…so am I," she admitted, and Xur detected a faint regret arouse within her, until something yanked it off her mind. "Did she say you two have a daughter?"

The zabrak nodded, and Ahsoka's eyes went starry.

"Can I _please_ see?"

* * *

**13 BBY – Coruscant **

Vigan'era'hrorra was all the rage in Imperial High Command after her little demonstration, becoming almost a celebrity of sorts that inspired confidence in hearts to which it had been fleeting. Anyone who was _anyone_ wanted to have a word with her, but Thrawn was smart to keep her at a distance, as truthfully, the Empire did not want news of her to get out, at least not yet. Utilizing surprise was a valuable tool, especially when the enemy was convinced they were winning.

Agent Markov was taking the brunt of the work, however, as since Nerah could not properly understand and read Basic as of yet, all of the logistics and paperwork fell to her. Still, the chiss had at least the decency to watch her as she did so. The blank stare she usually gave made Markov sometimes forget what she was, and she worried about the false sense of security she had around the super solider…especially if Nerah ever decided she didn't like her anymore.

But Nerah never struck her as someone who really enjoyed the killing she partook in. She found it far more likely that the chiss saw it as either her way of life or a vocational art form. Markov didn't want to assume every chiss had a fascination of art, but the only two she'd ever met adopted that assumption, and she was at least glad that the woman beside her didn't smile and grin when she shattered bones.

While Markov continued to fill out her datapad, Nerah shifted, looking down towards the back of her belt where her twin RK-3 blaster pistols were holstered safely.

"Blasters…" Nerah pointed. "Bad place."

Pulled from her current thought process and efforts to finish her logistical tasks, Markov couldn't understand what she meant. "You can speak Cheunh if you want, Nerah."

"No…" she shook her head. "Practice…I say…blasters…not good place."

She mulled her words, and finally turned to face her. "You're trying to say that my blasters aren't in a good place."

Nerah nodded, and then pointed to her sleeve. "Better here."

"Like a holdout?" Markov figured, looking down to her sleeve. "They're too big."

She also didn't like holdout blasters much, as they sincerely lacked in stopping power most of the time, unless at close range, and she didn't always have that luxury. The RK-3 blaster was useful at virtually any reasonable distance, and she needed that versatility to adapt quickly to turbulent situations, which came with being an ISB Agent.

Nerah executed a nimble sleight of hand motion that almost made her personal holdout blaster appear from thin air. "Fast…better. Strong, okay."

"Speed is better than strength, you say?" she pieced together.

"Yes…_speed_. Don't see you coming. Any big enemy…" she gestured in a precise fashion. "One shot…fall. Not ready."

Markov smirked. "Well, in terms of speed you about double my own."

Nerah cocked her head in wonder. "_Double?_"

"Yes…" she realized she'd never had to explain the concept before. "Two of something."

"Hm…my speed…two of you," she put together, and then swiftly stowed her blaster away again. "Um…_k'ir nah bob ch'ahn, ch'acevi_."

_Don't doubt yourself, friend._

Markov wasn't expecting that, and when Nerah smiled her way, she bowed her head. "Thank you, Nerah. The word is _doubt_."

"_Doubt_," she recited in her heavy accent. "Feel bad about?"

"Yes," she confirmed, turning back to her datapad, and then realizing she had paused on a question she did not know the answer to. "How old are you, again?"

Nerah gave her a blank stare.

"_Veo ch'ahe'i_."

Her crimson gaze snapped with recognition, and then looked towards the floor in thought. "…six_teen_?"

Markov thought she was kidding, but Nerah didn't exactly have a very good sense of humor. "_Bav'rar?_"

She nodded. "One and six."

It took a moment for Markov to realize she was making a stupid face.

_You're shitting me._

"Chiss adults…_ten_," she reminded her, and that's when it suddenly made a _lot_ more sense. Chiss aged to adulthood at a staggering rate, which was why Nerah appeared to be in her early-mid-twenties while in reality she was almost ten years junior to that. It was difficult to wrap her head around that, and part of her felt bad that her childhood was essentially stolen from her.

"How long have you trained?" she dared to ask.

"Since…pull trigger."

"Since _you could_ pull _a_ trigger."

Nerah nodded. "_Could_…yes."

From what Markov could surmise, Nerah had been quite literally _born_ for this, and she was sure as hell glad the chiss considered her a friend.

Her commlink chimed, and Nerah looked on in curiosity as she answered it. "Agent Markov."

"_Agent…if you will,_" Thrawn's voice sounded on the other end. "_Bring Nerah to my office._"

"Copy that, sir. Two minutes."

"_Thank you._"

* * *

**13 BBY – **_**Fury**_

The _Fury_ had made Ahsoka's _Shadowbolt_ seem like a rinky-dink freighter with its extravagance and technological advancement, and also partly jealous. She would almost feel inclined to never settle down anywhere, and just call this ship home while traveling the galaxy…although it was a little _too_ comfy for her taste. A reality check here and there would be nice to remind her that she wasn't out in the open, enjoying the sights.

Although there were plenty of reminders that she was less than welcome aboard.

While she paced through the ship, admiring its design, she noticed a spherical droid roll up to her. Its design made her smile, falling to one knee. "Hello there," she greeted.

"Hello," it replied in perfect Basic, catching her off guard. "Yes, I can talk. Don't ask. My name is Rava, and _no_, I am not a droid."

Ahsoka rose to her full height once she realized they were not so cuddly, and then found that this Rava had already checked off most of her initial questions…which meant introductions were in order.

"I'm Ahsoka."

"Yes, I know this," Rava sighed via her vocabulator. "My incel of an organic overlord Xur Eon has requested me to inform you that you may stay as long as you like."

Ahsoka chuckled at her petty insult.

"However, personally I believe my more preferable overlord may not agree with this standpoint," she stated flatly. "I recommend that you mend this divide as quickly as possible, so as to ensure your stay will not be brief."

The togruta cleared her throat. "Okay slow down. Since when do droids have personal beliefs?"

Rava grumbled. "Must all of you not listen? I am a virtual intelligence construct, _not_ a droid."

"Right, right," Ahsoka held her hands defensively. "Sorry."

_Grumpy little bowling ball._

"Apology accepted," Rava tipped her domed head. "Now, where was I? Yes, as I said, I recommend you speak to Trilla sooner rather than later, especially now that she is with her daughter, Katara."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes in confusion. "And why does that make a difference?"

Rava rolled slightly closer and lowered her vocabulator volume. "Because she will have incentive _not_ to be cross with you."

That idea was _slightly_ appalling, and if Trilla knew she had only spoken to her for that reason, she'd just want to rip her in half again…and after what Xur had told her…the last thing she wanted to do was give Trilla any excess grief.

She'd seemed to suffer enough of that at the hands of the Empire.

Yet the idea of earning Trilla's trust was not only a good one, but probably smart in the long run. If Trilla was going to be around Xur as permanently as it seemed, then she'd have to speak to her sooner rather than later. She had no personal animosity towards her, not after what she'd been told, not even with the knowledge that she used to be the Second Sister, and not even the fact that she had killed her inside agent within the Inquisitorious, inadvertently or not.

Ahsoka didn't hate _anyone_ anyhow.

"Alright…_Rava_," she remembered. "I'll take your advice."

Rava tipped her head to one side. "Try _not_ to talk about her past," she suggested, and then rolled away, leaving Ahsoka to watch her go.

_Also known as try not to address the stinking feces pile in the room._

She had to try. _At least._

Ahsoka found Trilla in a portside room, holding her daughter with a slight sway with her stance. Katara was not in tears any longer, and only emitting tiny pouts here and there.

"Mommy's very sorry she got mad," she whispered to her. "She doesn't like to hear her baby girl cry."

Ahsoka looked on with caution, unsure if Trilla had spotted her, but she couldn't help but admire the scene.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Trilla asked with a slight edge to her tone. "Or are you just here to bother me?"

_Don't talk about her past._

The togruta probed her options, and then latched on to the only thing that seemed to make Trilla happy.

"How old is she?" Ahsoka asked, to which Trilla did not look her way.

"I'd like to be alone with my daughter," she slightly growled, and Katara began to pout louder almost on cue.

"Xur told me her name is Katara," Ahsoka pressed, cautiously stepping forward. "That's a beautiful name."

Trilla looked away, seemingly searching for a reason to stay angry, but she'd trapped her in a vice, just as Rava suggested. "Thank you," she eventually said. "She's almost two months old."

Ahsoka probed closer, and almost immediately she could feel the Force surging from the infant, her connection already strong for her age. It radiated heavy energy, and just from what she could sense, Katara seemed to be blessed with incredible potential, certainly a compliment to her parents.

"Oh…she's gorgeous," Ahsoka gleamed, the adorableness of the infant grasping ahold of her heart and dragging her in. Katara's eyes seemed to lock on her…and she _smiled_.

Trilla giggled. "She likes you, I guess."

The togruta leaned in. "_Hi_…"

Katara reached up and laughed, and Ahsoka could sense the joy rise within Trilla at her daughter's own…enough to gesture towards the togruta. "Would you like to?"

_Hold a baby? Hell yes!_

"Can I?" Ahsoka asked in confirmation, and Trilla handed Katara to her, to which Ahsoka gently learned how to properly hold a child then and there. "Hello Katara…I'm Ahsoka."

Katara laughed again.

"She can sense your heart…" Trilla revealed, and Ahsoka looked up, spotting her someone regretful gaze. "She knows you're a good person…it's just a shame it took me this long."

Ahsoka sighed. "Trilla…"

"Don't tell me it's alright, because it isn't," she stopped her, and then grimaced, pausing before continuing her thought. "I've done many terrible things in my life, and I know I'm about as imperfect as it gets. I just…I see him with you and I just think-."

"He _loves_ you, Trilla," Ahsoka assured. "More than _anything_. All he wanted to do was tell me about you…and I'm sorry things happened the way they did. I was the hasty one who swung first, after all. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me."

Trilla sighed. "I told myself I'd be rid of all my dark thoughts…all my jealousy, hate, anger…all it's ever brought me is pain and regret…and that isn't who I am."

"I know, Trilla. I've seen it here, and I can tell that you have a special bond with your daughter," Ahsoka eased. "After all you have overcome…you deserve this gift."

Trilla looked slightly embarrassed, but smiled, nonetheless. "Thank you, Ahsoka."

"And nobody's perfect…except maybe for this little one," Ahsoka cooed, and they both chuckled.

She was glad she did this.

* * *

**13 BBY – Onderon**

_Kill everyone who is not a Separatist._

Those orders, unfortunately, would've compelled Wraith to cleanse the galaxy of all living beings in this day and age of the Galactic Empire. He probably could've pulled it off, in honesty, with a _few_ bumps along the road, as he imagined microscopic organisms might be just slightly out of his league…or _care_ for that matter. Caring wasn't something he was taught, actually. That came with constant, slow-burn experience over time, and it took a lot of dead clones to teach him that lesson. The Separatists formed him into a monster, and he didn't hate them for it, but he didn't exactly have fond memories of the old days.

All the Separatists were dead anyway.

Grievous, Dooku, hell the entire Confederacy of Independent Systems had been wiped from the face of the galaxy, and it was all thanks to those stuffed tunics and men dressed in white armor.

With no clones to kill and no CIS to give him orders, Wraith had felt a little aimless for a while, suffering from various random tirades that continued to ravage his broken psyche. Learning that his…well, _former_ muse had been killed in a venator crash on a barren moon didn't help much either. Solace came from one-man raids of Imperial outposts here and there. They were small, sure, but they kept him distracted, and at least gave the Empire a gory mess to clean up.

That was until Ahsoka Tano came back from the dead.

He wiped the sweat from his eyes as bugs buzzed around him, trying to forget it. Distraction wouldn't do him any favors now, not with the rest of his tiny band of gunmen who were almost as angry as he was…_almost_.

"They're coming," one of them noted, and Wraith peeked from behind his cover at the convoy approaching, their forward lights almost blinding him in the night. Slouching back into his position, Wraith packed in the last shell to his modified slugthrower and slid over his less-than-ideal helmet he'd stuck with. The old one he loved so much was long destroyed, and with no CIS funding to back him up, he'd have to make do.

"Prep the launcher," he directed, pointing to one of his men on the far right. "I want that speeder flipped."

"You got it, boss."

_Boss…heh._

As soon as the forward headlights became bright enough, and Wraith's HUD confirmed the distance, he closed his fist.

The rocket screamed through the air, and in the blink of an eye the cargo speeder was on its side, and the ensuing blast vaporized the closest escort speeder. Thrown into chaos, the convoy leaders screamed orders too late as Wraith and his men charged, his slugthrower bellowing with each blast as it tore through duraplast in a gory mess. The closest victim was only staggered by his longer ranged shot, prompting Wraith to go on the melee offensive, blasting the trooper's arm free before grabbing ahold and batting him to the ground with it. In a one-handed underarm move, he pulled the trigger towards the trooper beside him, and he was graced with an instant death, just as Wraith's fellow men caught up.

The troop carrier opened, and out poured a squad of scout troopers with one orange shoulder. Wiping the blood from his visor, Wraith charged then squad on his own, shredding the closest to pieces with a slug blast before hop-stepping out of the way of the first stun stick swing. Catching his assailant's arm, he used his fist to beat upon his skull, before snapping the neck of his dazed victim.

Fire raged upon his back as a stun stick hit home, but Wraith remained conscious as he roared, batting him down with a backhand before crushing his skull underfoot as his helmet rolled off.

The rest of the scout troopers were less inclined to rush in.

"Who is this guy?" one of them gasped.

Wraith cracked his knuckles. "The man sparing you from having to report failure to your superiors."

His next step was met with trembling backpedals, and that's when he smelled blood in the water. Advancing quickly, he stopped one swing with his armored gauntlet before sweeping out his legs, ducking under a behind swing from another and letting his slugthrower loose upon his downed victim. Taking his stun stick with a roll, Wraith deflected the second swing and retaliated, his own swing plenty powerful to knock the stick clean from his grip. Beginning his dual wield assault, he one handed his slugthrower despite the kickback, the shells splintering their duraplast armor and eliciting pained screams from each shot, whist letting the charged weapon beat down others with his raw, incredible power.

Once the orange shoulder was all that remained, Wraith tossed the stick aside and held the thrower at the ready, waiting for the now lone trooper to make the first move.

"Y-you killed them all?!" he gasped.

Wraith looked around, checking each of the torn bodies, and found no one was moving. He shrugged. "Yup."

One of his men came from behind, sniffing his nostrils clean as he threw his rifle over his shoulder. "You got this one, Boss?"

Wraith flicked his head. "Get us the cargo and take it back to base."

He grinned as he turned back to the flipped speeder. "Drinks are on me."

"About time," Wraith remarked, fed up with expunging his own credits. "Now…" he pulled the lever on his slugthrower. "Unfortunately, we're not allowed to leave witnesses…_so_…"

"_Agh_…I knew it would end like this," he panicked.

Wraith scoffed. "No you didn't," before pulling the trigger.

It was good to be back.

* * *

**13 BBY – Coruscant**

"You will have to familiarize yourself with Basic at a fast pace, I'm afraid," Thrawn warned in Cheunh, as to save time. "But the good news is you have been approved to work under my command."

Nerah preferred that, especially over these strangely skinned aliens who she could never understand. She noticed a few times her less-strange aide Markov flash dirty or stunned looks towards the Tarkin fellow and white mustache, and she had looked slightly terrified of the machine man…which meant Nerah could assume they were saying things derogatory about her, which she was warned to expect. Thrawn had already recounted what he had to deal with just becoming a Commodore, but he couldn't hit as hard as she could.

No one could.

Nerah slightly bowed her head to Thrawn as a sign of respect, and then responded in Cheunh. "I'm anxious to fulfill your orders, Commodore."

"Excellent," Thrawn granted her one of his rare, small smiles, and then turned to Markov, speaking that strange language. "You have also…to work…" Nerah grimaced slightly in frustration as her translation failed, cursing to herself for not getting a grip on it faster. Sentence construction was so needlessly complex in Basic, not at all like the flowing outline that Cheunh had. Sure, it had excess apostrophes, but that was what made it easy. Most things were phonetic, but in Basic, almost every word had its own rule.

"Fuck," she mumbled the curse in Cheunh, but not low enough for her comrades to miss it. Clearing her throat, she responded in Basic, "Sorry…understand…difficult."

_That is definitely not right._

Thrawn corrected her. "Sorry, _this is_ difficult _to_ understand."

_Always those blasted linking words._

"Sorry, Commodore…this is difficult to understand…" and then she couldn't remember how to refer to herself. "_Me_."

"_For_ me," Markov corrected.

_Fucking hell._

"Why can't these cunts just suck it up?" Nerah growled in Cheunh, frustrated. "So what if I can't speak Basic? I can kill fifty men from two hundred yards with a-."

"_Vigan'era'hrorra_," Thrawn interrupted with a cold warning in the same language. "If you do not assimilate to their customs, they will not care, and needless outbursts in a foreign language will not be tolerated…by _anyone_."

Nerah realized too late that she had lost her temper, despite how well-founded it felt, but she knew she had to be better than that. She'd been trained to be more mature than most of her peers, as well as the fact that chiss customs expected it of her around the time she turned twelve…but there's no cure for being a teenager, and being able to bench press well above her own weight made her instructors less inclined to discipline her.

Clasping her hands behind her back, she tipped her head. "Understand, Commodore."

"Under_stood_," he corrected.

"_Understood_."

She was going to get an ulcer from this.

* * *

The _Praetorian_ was an Arquitens-Class command cruiser, locked in drydock in Coruscant's upper level. Newly constructed recently, it had spent some time in its compartment, as no commander had been lined up to take it for some time…but with Commodore Thrawn's newest promotion, the Empire had at last found an excuse to clear it away.

Markov appreciated that Yularen and Tarkin had come together to form a joint operation, even with the silent animosity she held towards the latter for his "investigation". Being looked at like a traitor for only a day did plenty to sully her confidence, and she had to put up with it for well over three weeks. Still, professionalism should always dictate a situation, and she was glad it had.

Watching Nerah explode as she had was very unexpected. The girl in human terms, but woman in chiss, had proven to be stoic upon first glance, but as the super soldier learned more Basic terms, she was beginning to realize the truth behind her personality. Under her guise was a fiery, foul-mouthed teenager who may have insubordination problems down the road, and that was a thing the Empire snuffed out rather quickly.

Not like anyone could really reprimand her properly…perhaps Thrawn, but he was only a Commodore. Markov worried for the things the Empire _could_ do to her should she get out of hand and working as an ISB officer had afforded her glances of how the Empire handles interrogations. Thrawn didn't strike her as harsh…_cold_ maybe, but he only seemed to criticize speech if it was unfounded and baseless. He was more welcome to the thoughts and ideas of his supplemental officers, and Nerah was certainly smart, there was no doubt about that.

If Nerah stayed working under Thrawn, Markov imagined they wouldn't have many issues.

Her assessment immediately changed once she, Thrawn and Nerah arrived at the boarding tube…finding Lord Vader waiting there for them, an Imperial Inquisitor at his side.

"Lord Vader," Thrawn bowed, and Markov followed suit, while Nerah eventually got the message. "Is there something you wish to discuss?"

"Indeed," he rumbled, and then beckoned the shorter Inquisitor than average. "I am assigning the Fourth Sister to your ship. She will serve as my attaché to your special operations unit."

Markov knew this was not a request, even if she was slightly wary of "Force-wielders", as they were called. The only one she had ever had the…_pleasure_…of working with was the former Second Sister, but that was three years ago. Inquisitors operated without much regard for civilian casualties, a flaw Markov did not particularly enjoy, and their barbaric practices could be frightening, as well as intensely maddening at times.

Thrawn eyed the Fourth Sister for a moment, and Markov could not deduct what was going through his mind…but she could only guess it was some over-analytical approach to a simple answer…which was,

"As you wish, my lord," Thrawn accepted. "She will join us as we depart for Onderon."

Markov mentally scoffed. Of course. Onderon was perhaps the most turbulent hotbed for insurgent activity, and what better place to let Nerah loose?

Vader turned to his lackey. "I will expect regular reports on your happenings."

Typical. High and mighty Imperial officers never bothered to hide the fact that they were spying on each other.

"Yes, Lord Vader," the Inquisitor bowed, and with no second regard, Vader paced off to engage with whatever atrocity he was set to commit next.

"It appears you will have to add one more to our logistical field list," Thrawn prompted Markov, to which she was already on it. Punctuality was her strength.

"Hello, my name Nerah," the chiss greeted their new crew member with an outstretched hand. The Inquisitor regarded it momentarily with their simple mask, but eventually shook.

"My name _is_ Nerah," Markov corrected.

The chiss gave her an admonishing look, and the ISB agent grimaced, even if she was only trying to do her job.

"You may call me Sister," Fourth Sister replied, and then tipped her head before Thrawn. "I have been instructed to report to you, Commodore."

"Excellent," Thrawn regarded. "Let us board our vessel, so that we may get underway."

* * *

**13 BBY – **_**Fury**_

"_How goes the investigation?_"

It was difficult not to show his distress in his expression, but Xur knew trying was pointless anyhow. Vorchenko had never been one to let subtle cues fly beneath her view, and her intent expression only enhanced that claim through her hologram projected in his hand.

"I can send you what I have…but we've had a…_development_. I've been sidetracked," he admitted.

"_What kind of development?_" she asked, with more of a curious tone instead of disappointment.

Xur knew their connection was secure, but he wagered for a moment. He trusted Vorchenko with his life, in fact he'd offer more if he could, but he wasn't sure the risk was worth it. Then again, she was coordinating virtually everything while he was on leave, and to not grant her valuable intel almost felt like a betrayal.

He sighed, bringing his voice down. "Ahsoka Tano is alive."

Vorchenko's eyes widened momentarily, but eventually retracted. "_I see. I am assuming she was on Lorrd when you arrived._"

"That's correct."

Crossing her arms in thought, she mulled the new news, just as she always did. "_That is interesting. I recommend we go over more details in person, however._"

Xur frowned. "And why is that?"

She didn't look entirely comfortable, and he could detect slight frustration within her…specifically directed at him. "_The Imperium has approved of my intervention. They've outfitted the Valkyrie with various instruments and technology that aren't exactly more advanced, but more of a different make. How it is compatible is beyond me…_"

"Hm," Xur mused. "All from our mysterious Benefactor?"

She nodded. "_While we're on that subject, I must ask you another favor._"

The zabrak lowered his brow. "Go ahead."

"_The Imperium will grant us an audience with their leaders, but they have requested that you, Trilla Suduri and Cal Kestis be present. From what I can gather, they have a proposal of sorts, and they have constructed a token of good faith in the form of a care package, which is on its way to Onderon under the care of Saw Gerrera._"

Xur let out a light laugh. "Then I guess we'll meet you on Onderon."

Vorchenko shook her head. "_You are currently wearing your gift from them, and I insist that you come to my coordinates. If Tano is alive, then I recommend sending both her and Suduri to Onderon to secure the package, that way you and I can already begin our negotiations and preparation._"

"What about Katara?" he asked, his eyes narrowed. "You can't expect her mother to part with her. Not now."

"_Your daughter will be quite safe on my ship. Antaria has already confirmed she is willing to watch over her_," Vorchenko said. "_If you desire, I can have her speak with Suduri directly to convince-_."

"No, it's alright," Xur waved off. "I'll take care of it."

Vorchenko tipped her head. "_Very well. I will send you my coordinates. Hopefully, by the time you get here, Kestis will have already arrived._"

"Right," Xur agreed. "Stay safe."

"_You as well._"

Her hologram disappeared, and immediately Xur wiped his eyes as the stress mounted, feeling as if a thousand different tasks keep appearing out of thin air.

"Planning on going somewhere?"

Trilla's voice didn't even surprise him, looking up to her crossed-arms stance like a guilty child who had accepted his fate. "Are you here to criticize me some more?"

She angled her head to one side. "That depends on you, of course."

He groaned, his mood already soured, and not prepared to deal with anything to make it worse. "I am really not in the mood…"

"To hear me tell you I'm sorry?" she stepped forward, her voice softening to a regretful tone. "Are you sure?"

The zabrak felt his annoyance bristle, resulting in a slight growl. "Can we not play word games right now?"

Trilla paused, realizing her mistake too late, and then proceeded to uncomfortably cross her arms, looking away with embarrassment. He was still upset with her, truthfully, but to see her standing there…knowing all she'd been through…all that she had suffered…he couldn't keep this up, not for much longer.

"Trilla, I'd like to think we're going to live forever," he began, and her eyes regarded him with slight hurt. "That there's always going to be a tomorrow…but the truth is, we need to be grateful for every day will get to even stand in the same room together. I risked everything to get you back, because you're _worth_ it…and I would never jeopardize that—" her raised finger stopped him.

"If you try to apologize, I'm going to be _very_ unhappy," she warned, and he resisted an urge to clench his fist. "Because you did nothing wrong. I was the moron who didn't trust you. I was the idiot who was upset merely because you did not contact me for a singular day. I was the one who shouted you down and threatened to leave over a misunderstanding."

Xur shook his head. More damn word games.

The tear that escaped her eye shut his mouth. "All I want is to be a mother our daughter can look up to…but I can't even convince _myself_ that I'm worthy, not when I'm still giving in to these petty formalities at every turn."

"You're still human, Trilla," he eased. "It happens. You can't criticize yourself for that."

She only looked away, wiping the tear from her face as she sniveled.

"Hey," he inched forward, offering his hand. She watched it for a moment, but eventually took it. "It's alright. I should've been clearer with you. I know you said not to apologize…but I am."

Trilla sighed, leaning in closer so that she could wrap him in her arms, resting her chin on his shoulder as he followed the gesture. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I promise I will place my faith in you…where it belongs…just as it always has."

He corralled her into his grasp, bathing in her presence as he always did. "It's okay…I love you."

She groaned as she tightened her grip, her tears relinquished. "I love you too."

Nearly all the stress he was suffering from was lifted in that moment, and he never wanted to let her go.

* * *

**Special thanks to DFM23 and bluejadedskies for allowing me to use their OCs! This isn't the last time you'll be seeing Wraith by a long shot, and the Fourth Sister is just barely being introduced!**

**I really hope you guys are liking Nerah! I personally have loved writing about her more than I imagined, so her role may be expanding a lot, as will Thrawn's. This story needed a badass new villain(?)!**

**I also may be adding expansion Author's Cut chapters here and there that will be properly placed within the chapter lineup, so look out for those!**

**Thanks for reading, and stay safe!**


	38. Game Theory

**Game Theory**

"Why have enemies when you can have friends?"

**13 BBY – **_**Praetorian **_

_Nerah holds herself proper, standing with her arms clasped behind her back. She stares out through the viewport without the covering of her mask, displaying her true form to the command deck. Officers look upon her in confusion, perhaps resentment._

"Four hours until we arrive at Onderon, Commodore," the deck officer reported from below.

"Thank you, Captain," Thrawn regarded. _He tips his head in acknowledgement, but tries to slip a concerned look towards Nerah, who continues to regard the hyperspace tunnel._

"I have never…" _Nerah attempts to speak in Basic, but once again struggles to find the proper words to convey her thoughts._ "_vumer ch'at_."

"Traveled to," Thrawn translated for her.

_She quietly thanks for the help._ "I have never _traveled_ to Onderon," _her accent is very thick, struggling to wrap her tongue around the words_.

"It is a troubled world, at the very least," Thrawn explained, coming up alongside her. "Since the Clone War, it has been in a state of perpetual civil war with various kings and queens vying for the throne in the capital of Iziz."

_She listens studiously, her crimson eyes dissecting the information and processing it as best she can._ "And…Empire?" _Her expression turns sour as she cannot find her words._

"The Empire has taken an observing role on some occasions, allowing the various usurpers and pretenders to wear each other down before sweeping in to establish order."

_Nerah makes a quick assumption, backtracks, but decides to accept her own reasoning._ "And time…come again?"

"That time has come again, yes," Thrawn said. "Agent Markov will spearhead the operation," _she expresses contentedness with this news._ "She will have your orders for you when you board your gunship."

_Nerah looks as if she expects more and is then surprised not to receive anything further_. "Advice…?" Nerah asked.

"Of course. I am glad that you enquired," Thrawn stepped forward, closer to the viewport. "Tell me, in Cheunh if you wish, perhaps your…most influential lesson on Csilla."

_Nerah's eyes aim towards the floor, deep in consideration. They flash in various directions, perhaps emulating the memories she experiences from her past. _"Complacency is your most dangerous enemy," she answered in Cheunh, and then switched to Basic. "Word?"

"Complacency," Thrawn answered. _She regards intently, storing the word in an easy to access area of her mind. _"It is certainly an invisible enemy that can be the death of a warrior, should they allow it to spread too far within their mind, but it also can be projected upon an enemy…"

_Nerah searches for the word, and her eyes glisten._ "Bait."

"Precisely. If you display a degree of smugness to your abilities, you can incite a variable amount of intimidation, which thus can be used to achieve victory without firing a single shot or swinging a single fist. It can sometimes be best to mold your confidence into complacency, which will display a weak point that your enemy may attempt to exploit…but this is when they can become predictable. They will try a rapid attack to slip past your knowledge, thinking you are so embroiled in yourself that you will never expect it, or approach with an all-out movement in hopes of securing their victory in a single stroke."

"Then…_strike_," _Nerah pounds her fist into her palm, displaying her absolute understanding._

"Yes, Nerah. Then you use their own assuredness against them."

_Her gaze returns to the viewport, before she looks back to Thrawn. She speaks in Cheunh after her brow furrows in frustration as she struggles with Basic._ "People here look at me differently," _she displays her gloved hands._ "They do not accept how I look, even when I know I could snap their neck with an effortless twist."

"This surprises you?" Thrawn responded in Cheunh.

_ Nerah's eyes narrow as her chin bows, expecting it to be obvious._ "I was under the impression the Empire respected those with power."

"This is not an incorrect assumption, but there are underlying issues and prejudices with supposed…political fulcrums," Thrawn revealed. "Observe now, subtly, how our resident deck officers react to us now speaking in Cheunh."

_ Nerah's gaze quietly peers around the bridge, and her neck stiffens with discomfort. Perhaps a slight hint of contempt._

"They appear somewhat disgusted by our exchange."

"Indeed," Thrawn tipped his head. "You must learn quickly that no matter how much power you display, the Empire will nevertheless regard you as somewhat...second rate. This, however, can be a sharp tool that you may use to your advantage. Opponents who are not able to relinquish themselves of their prejudiced preconceptions easily fall prey to overconfidence, unearned arrogance…"

"Complacency," Nerah finished. _The corners of her lips curl upwards in satisfaction._

"Precisely. Play your role, Nerah, the role that you wish your opponent to see, and with studious patience, you will prevail."

_ Nerah slightly bows as a student would to her mentor. Her Basic is spoken with a clarity she has yet to display._ "Yes, Commodore."

_ Thrawn inclines his head slightly with mutual respect._ "That will be all, Nerah. Agent Markov is expecting you."

* * *

**13 BBY – **_**Shadowbolt**_

An hour into their hyperspace jump, and Trilla was already mulling second thoughts about agreeing to Xur's request. It wasn't leaving Katara with Xur, necessarily, as she knew he would protect his daughter with an intense fervor, and Antaria had become a closer friend than she expected as she learned more of the echani marital art style from her. She knew without a doubt that she was in safe hands…

They just weren't _her_ hands.

Whether she would ever admit it or not, she had a deep suspicion and worry that Xur would not give Katara the attention she needed. He loved her, certainly, but he didn't have the same drive to raise and teach her as Trilla did, and his constant involvement with what Reyna tasked him with would only separate him further. The zabrak was always a hard worker, always on the move, always looking for the next fight, but even when he did sit still, he spent it with himself. Xur had always been a slightly introverted loner, but that was what she liked about him, since she wasn't too far off in a sense, although she'd developed a better sense of holding a conversation when her interrogation skills had been honed.

Even after thirteen years of knowing him, she still felt like there were parts of him she was yet to pick out. He'd always been good at hiding them, and it was one of the primary reasons the Second Sister never caught him, and she had completely underestimated his cunning, although his boldness had been right on the dot.

She didn't want her daughter to be raised by one parent, as Trilla knew there were a lot of parts of her that she didn't want Katara to adapt…but perhaps that was part of the reason Xur somewhat distanced himself. He and Trilla were about as imperfect parents could get, both struggling with dark tendencies, and she had no idea if Katara had inherited her father's immunity to the corruptive energies of the Dark Side. There were, in fact, many things they didn't know about their daughter, like whether she would adopt Trilla's more core-colonies accent, or Xur's mid-outer rim dialect, which stemmed from mostly his master Mace Windu. She surmised as much, since his mother spoke with a harder traditional zabraki accent that anyone could easily deduct came from the Outer Rim.

Trilla could not remember where she was from, as she was taken when she was far too young to understand, and her accent had formed listening to the various language programs she had studied when she was younger. With so many pronunciation forms to remember, it had almost come naturally to her and she was fine with that, even if it had given Xur fuel to tease her about her pronunciations. This came namely from words with an excessive number of vowels, such as _holocron_ or _padawan_, as her accent dictated that the second and third instances of the letter were spoken differently, in contrast to Xur's harsher and, in _his_ mind, more phonetic pronunciation. She got him back on occasion, mostly for his finish of words like 'motor' with an -er instead of -ah, as well as his contrasting and more harsh pronunciation of _holocron_.

Only then did Trilla realize how bored she was, and that was mostly because she had no desire to speak to Ahsoka, even if she had become more partially tolerant of the togruta. Knowing she was pure hearted gave her some points, but her persistence to always do the absolute right thing was somewhat infuriatingly annoying, and this was proven once Ahsoka finished telling Trilla how she refused to kill any of the clones that hunted her during Order 66. Trilla found that needlessly idealistic and foolhardy and could only imagine how much faster those younglings would've died if Trilla refused to defend herself with lethal force.

Besides, there was something far more interesting Trilla wanted to ask about, mainly as to get an idea of the extent of the aftermath post Tranbir IX all those years ago.

"Whatever happened between you and that…what was his name…" she trailed off, purposely pretending to forget his name as to make the question seem more harmless. "That super soldier fellow."

Ahsoka's distant expression fading towards the viewport as she sat in the pilot's chair already did a number to explain why the man was not with her now, but Trilla felt no particular regret for making her feel uncomfortable.

"You mean Wraith?" she asked, her tone low.

"That's right," Trilla feinted remembrance. "Last I heard all Separatist leaders were killed on Mustafar after a heat shielding failure."

That story had become much less believable once Trilla had been graced with the reality of the Clone War…and who Darth Vader really was.

The togruta said nothing, and Trilla knew she hit a spot. "If you don't wish to share that is perfectly-."

"No, it's alright," Ahsoka eased, which is the kind of response she was hoping to pull from her. "It's a long story."

Trilla peeked at the navicomputer, and then involuntarily settled in once she noticed they had nothing but time. "It appears we have the perfect environment for such a thing."

Ahsoka snorted in slight amusement. "I guess so," leaning back with her arms crossed. Trilla could tell she was less willing to share the more intricate details, but it seemed that bargaining Katara had paid off, and earned her at least part of the story. "It's a mess, honestly," she began. "After what had happened…it made me realize a few things, and I started to second guess my decisions much more than I did before."

That was definitely the subtle desire Trilla had on that day, and perverse pride swelled at hearing that, although she didn't let that show on her face.

"Xur and I never talked much after that, if at all," she recounted, which only made Trilla feel more guilty with what had happened on Lorrd. "And Wraith…well…you spend enough time trying to hide a relationship with a prominent enemy combatant, and it starts driving you mad. I had never struggled much with paranoia…but it only worsened the longer we persisted onwards.

"About a month before Order 66…I told him I couldn't do it anymore."

Trilla bit her lip. "I see. I imagine he didn't like that much."

_Kind of a question only a cunt would ask._

Ahsoka didn't seem to mind. "I was scared…" she trailed off. "Anakin was putting the pieces together, and I could sense this deep hatred building within him. I just felt that if I could remove us from the equation, maybe he'd lose some of that anger."

Trilla swallowed awkwardly.

"But nothing changed. All I got was a little more security, but I received a broken heart in return."

She dared to ask. "Is he…?"

The togruta shook her head. "Dead? No. In fact, he's on Onderon right now."

"I see…and when was the last time you spoke to him?"

Ahsoka paused, pinching the bridge of her nose with a cloud of regret over her head. "Three years ago I gave him an encrypted commlink, codename and told him I'd send him on intel grabs and supply raids. That was the last time I spoke to him face to face."

_And I thought I was harsh._

"It appears you have some mending to do," Trilla noted.

She scoffed. "You and Xur are so perfect for each other. Straight to the point."

"Saves time. You want my advice, Tano?" Trilla asked, and Ahsoka made no movement to object. "Take one thing for granted, and you'll never see it again."

Ahsoka sniffed, letting her brow shift downwards. "Yeah. Funny how it took me this long to figure that out."

"You haven't figured it out yet."

That's when she finally turned her head, and Trilla only smirked with a wink, to which Ahsoka interpreted her last statement as a joke.

"I'm guessing this is something he deals with every day."

Trilla let out a deep giggle. "Oh, this is nothing."

Ahsoka chuckled along with that. "And by the way, you don't have to fake ignorance just to get me to open up."

The former Second Sister's eyes widened for a moment, before looking upon Ahsoka, who took her turn to wink.

Trilla smirked. More points for her.

* * *

**13 BBY – **_**Praetorian **_

Nerah's immediate observational assumptions painted the Empire as more similar to her native Ascendancy, but as she found herself attempting to mingle with various crew members, she only felt more ostracized. She was always more talkative than her peers, trying to make friends wherever she went, and even after she had been chosen to be her people's experiment for something greater, that really didn't change. Luckily, her subtle transformation had not warped her personality, which apparently had been a possible side effect alongside making her irreversibly mute.

She had been old enough at the time to make the choice for herself anyhow. Her parents never cared for her much, not after she showed her natural prowess and interest in learning the art of combat, so she was used to taking care of herself. When she had proven to be the best young warrior the chiss had to offer, and her age placed her just within the acceptable parameters, it had almost been a no-brainer.

Being transferred to the Galactic Empire wasn't part of her envisioned plan. Humans seemed to be naturally selfish, and their blatant disregard for her simply because of the way she looked only became more infuriating. Part of her hated it here, and if it wasn't for Thrawn and Agent Markov, she would've wished to have been sent home.

Nerah wasn't stupid. She knew better than that, and now that the Empire knew what she could do, she felt that it would take much for them to let her go. Best she could do was establish what was what and make a name for herself that commanded respect instead of scorn.

After spending much of her walk through the halls being ignored, she ducked into the hangar bay with slight frustration, hoping to find a bit of solace. Instead she was greeted to a drilling of the stationed trooper garrison, the white armored men running through an exercise in the empty space.

Then she spotted that small woman that the machine man had brought along, conversing with a few soldiers dressed in black and red armor…like her.

At last…something familiar.

"Hello," she greeted as she approached, drawing the attention of the red-visor soldiers, who looked unsure as what to make of her. "I am Nerah."

The Fourth Sister regarded her with her violet-yellow eyes and a blank stare, currently sitting atop a shipping crate. Her black hair was very similar to Nerah's, but it was cut short at about her jawline.

"Isn't this that super soldier girl?" one of the troopers whispered, but she detected it clearly. His counterpart only shrugged with his rifle held across his chest.

"Red eyes…kinda freaky."

_Freaky?_

"Um…Basic…not good," Nerah admitted, feeling her head droop downwards a little. "What word is _freaky_?"

Both troopers seemed stunned that she heard their conversation, but the Fourth Sister spoke for them, her tone slightly monotonous. "Do you know what _weird _means?"

"Weird…" she echoed. "Yes…_strange_."

"Freaky means the same thing."

_My eyes are strange?_

No they aren't. If anything, humans had strange, non-glowing eyes, and she wondered how they ever possibly could see in the dark.

"Is it true you took out an entire purge unit on your own?" one of them asked, to which Nerah took a moment to translate as best she could.

"You mean…black and red," she pointed, and they gave her a nod. "Yes. Not hard."

They stared for a long while after that.

Nerah shrugged. "What?"

They whispered again, not learning from last time that she could hear. "Did she just say not hard?"

"Who the fuck _is_ this chick?"

"Super soldier," Nerah answered his rhetorical question, earning another stunned look from them. "Is there double word?"

The Fourth Sister narrowed her eyes. "What? Do you mean _second_ word?"

_Shit. You knew that, Nerah._

"Yes…is there second word?"

"No…I think we get it," the closest soldier nodded, just as Nerah detected footsteps from behind.

"I see you're making friends," Agent Markov remarked, coming alongside her. "Are your men prepped, Fourth Sister?"

The inquisitor nodded. "Ready to go, Agent."

"Um…ma'am…if you don't mind me asking," one of them spoke up. "Did she really take out an entire purge unit by herself?"

Markov's gaze fell to Nerah, who only placed her hands behind her back while the Agent regarded the trooper. "Yes…and she made it look easy."

He gulped. "I see. Glad you're on our side."

"Indeed," Markov agreed. "If you'll excuse us, Nerah and I need to speak."

As they paced away, the Agent smirked. "I see you are not immune to the act of gloating."

Nerah shrugged. "Show off, little…mask complacency."

She was a good listener.

* * *

**13 BBY – Onderon**

Their journey was not quite as sluggish as Trilla initially imagined it would be, and in short time they arrived at the designated coordinates that Saw had provided to the _Shadowbolt_. Base camp was not as ragged as she predicted, but it certainly wasn't up to the Imperial standards she had become accustomed to. Many of the fighters were in bad shape in terms of cleanliness, but she could sense their spirit and resolve; their unfaltering desire to strike against the tyranny of the Empire.

Descending the loading ramp, Trilla held her helmet underneath her arm as to not entice sudden retaliation with her appearance, and with Ahsoka out front, she figured that was the best chance for her _not_ to be shot on sight.

Saw was already waiting at the loading ramp with that same, dark stare he always wore. "It's good to see you again," he greeted Ahsoka, and they shared a handshake.

"Likewise. Sorry for the delay, but we came as fast as we could," Ahsoka apologized, just as Trilla came up beside her. Saw gave her one look, and to her immense surprise, offered her his hand.

"Commander. Vorchenko filled me in. Allow me to apologize for the way my men regarded you on Kashyyyk," he tipped his head as Trilla shook. "As well as for ever doubting your devotion."

"I admit most of it was well-founded," Trilla granted, just as Saw began to lead them through the camp. "But I am glad I can be of service."

"What's the situation here?" Ahsoka asked, her eyes pacing through the night as rowdy groups of men rushed by them.

"When news spread of Vorchenko's strike against the Empire, many worlds finally gained the courage to rise up, Onderon one of them," he explained. "We've been executing mostly hit and run attacks, but once your agent showed up, we've got a little bolder. The intel the Imperium has provided us has been pivotal in our struggle as well."

"What about Imperial retaliation? They usually don't allow insurgents to persist this long," Trilla brought up. "And with the situation here I'm surprised they haven't responded with a firmer hand."

Saw nodded. "I have considered that, which is why I want to get this done as quickly as possible."

* * *

**13 BBY – **_**Fury**_

Trilla had surmised that Xur was lying about Katara throwing up on his chest, but the zabrak could say whole-heartedly that it was 100% the truth. It was obvious that his girlfriend was more cut out for the whole parenthood thing than he was, but he still wanted to give it his all, even if he was bad at it.

The problem was…he's _very_ bad at it.

Going through hyperspace, he'd hoped the baby's wailing would simply end if he disregarded it for long enough, but Katara had proven immensely stubborn, that or Xur had no idea that leaving a baby to cry was the sign of a shit father. Once it got to a certain point, and Rava had been forced to silence her audio receptors just to ignore it, he had no choice but to go into the child's designated room and unlock the floating capsule that held his daughter.

Katara kept crying, and part of him wanted to scream at her to shut up, but he quickly shot that idea down as incredibly cruel, which it was. Sighing heavily through her wails, he picked her up, unsure as how to hold her properly.

"Hey uh…there, there," he stammered, only to see him have no effect. "_Ugh_…why did I think this would be a good idea?"

He mulled contacting Trilla, but that would be borderline embarrassing, along with the fact that she was certainly busy. She didn't need to stress that her daughter was being poorly taken care of by her own father.

Xur just wanted her to go to sleep, and the longer her cries persisted, the more he remembered how much he hated small children. All they did was cry, pout, whine and take shits, and he could care less about the "you were one too" argument. He wasn't one now and he never would be again and having this burden to deal with now was unnecessary.

Then she opened her eyes.

Immediately he felt a connection manifest, and he sensed the strength she had in the Force projected back onto him. It was potent, incredibly so for her age, and he used that to his advantage, trying to instill a calming effect upon the poor child. Slowly, her crying ceased, and finally he figured out how to cradle her in his arms. She looked up, and for a moment he saw Trilla within her eyes, and all of his frustration ceased. Not only was she a piece of the woman he loved, she was _his_…_his_ daughter.

He'd never asked for one…he never wanted one in the first place, but it's what Trilla wanted. Katara was the living manifestation of the love he had for her, and he felt himself relishing that even more than before.

"You miss momma…don't you?" he asked, and she gave him no response, only a slight pout. "I miss her too…but she's out there fighting for you to have another day, and while I may not be as pretty as she is to look at…I'll do my best."

Katara began to fall asleep again, and when he set her back down within her capsule…he was beginning to see why Trilla had been so upset with him for not calling in.

It had only been a day, and he missed her terribly, and not because she was better at caretaking. He missed her energy…her warmth…just the thought that she was always there. He missed her perfect smile, her witty comebacks, her head tilts and exotic accent…her soft hair in his hands, her ever-pure emerald eyes. All of it tugged at his heart, pulling him to where he knew she was…just to feel her in his arms again.

Sniffling, he picked Katara out of her capsule and back into his arms, taking a seat in the rocker they had bolted into the floor. Feeling a part of his ailment quell, he smiled.

"Yeah…I miss momma very much."

* * *

**13 BBY – Onderon **

"Here it is," Saw revealed a large container, letting it rattle the rusted durasteel table he set it atop of. It was slightly smaller than Ahsoka expected, but then again she wasn't sure why she had a size in mind anyhow. "It's heavy, and I was told not to unlock it until I hit the surface."

"Is that all they told you?" Trilla asked.

"Only that it included something to help our fight, and a gift for you," he regarded her, and Ahsoka noticed her expression shift, which was rare. Trilla always seemed to be on top of things and she had projected herself as such, even when she'd first met her just before Tranbir IX. Although, that memory was a little sourer than she remembered, as she had truly been probing Ahsoka for information about her relationship with Wraith, and subtly looking for ways to expose it.

Perhaps the former inquisitor had been born for her job.

_What a terrible thought._

She knew exactly what Trilla had gone through, at least what Xur had told her, and it was horrifically barbaric to say the least. What the Empire did to those Jedi was unthinkable, inhumane, and while Ahsoka never let hatred into her heart, that was the closest it had ever come in a long time. Part of her was glad the Fortress had been destroyed the way that it was, annihilated in a fusion detonation that irradiated the waters in which it once laid.

The togruta could only imagine what the Empire was doing to Force sensitives across the galaxy, and the respect she had for Trilla to overcome it all was potent, despite their shaky relationship.

And her daughter was so beautiful…if only…

_No…stay focused._

"I see…" Trilla surmised, pulling her out of her thought process. "But why drag me out here? It would've been more efficient just to leave it with the Admiral."

Vorchenko…someone else who earned a lot of her respect.

"That's an answer I don't have," Saw said. "Right now, I want to get this thing opened and be done with it, that way you can be on your way if necessary."

"I can certainly get behind that," Trilla seconded.

Ahsoka grimaced. The guilt was building, and the internal nagging couldn't be placed on hold any longer.

"Saw…is my _agent_ here?" Ahsoka asked, to which he paused, regarding her with a disinterested shrug.

"You mean your Separatist war criminal?" he almost spat with a hint of venom in his tone. "He's back at the cargo area, probably by himself."

She scowled mentally, but then again Saw probably had good reason to be angry, forced into a corner and trust a man he obviously despised. He'd get over it.

"I'll go find him while you two sort this out," she offered.

"You don't want to see inside?" Trilla asked.

"It's fine. You go on ahead," Ahsoka gave her a half smile before turning away, doing her best to figure out where exactly the cargo area was supposed to be.

Each step was more difficult, and it felt as if heavy durasteel was strapped to her ankles, dragging her down. She felt herself sink into the ground, her head beginning to pound, her vision beginning to blur, and despite the cold of the night around her, she began to sweat. Ahsoka was always calm, cool and on her feet, ready to react, but this was the result of procrastination that had gone on long enough to almost declare itself reality.

Was she meant to ever speak to him again…unprofessionally? She'd been all business for so long, and only seeing Xur again had mildly raised that barrier. Everyone she had ever cared about was dead, and now suddenly it felt like her world was reanimating around her…and she wasn't sure that was a good thing.

The togruta didn't want to admit it…but she was _scared_. What was she supposed to say? It wasn't like they hadn't been in contact, so telling him she was glad to see him again didn't make much sense, not after the last time they had talked.

It was probably fair to assume he didn't want to talk to her in the first place. Why would he? All she'd done was roll over his heart with a speeder, and as far as he knew she was just here to do it again. There wasn't any trust left…not anymore.

Then why did she feel she needed to do this _anyway?_

_Because it's the right thing to do._

No, that's not it. It couldn't be. That answer was too simple, one that she'd known for years, and it didn't explain why she wouldn't have talked to him beforehand. To say it was an obligation was just crude, and if that was true, then she should certainly turn around and leave it be. He deserved better than that.

Hell…he deserved better than _her_.

Sure enough, Saw was right where he said…and he was alone. Taking a swig of his beer and setting it aside, Wraith was poised atop a cargo crate as he tended to his own wound on his back rather unsuccessfully. His hair was cut almost all the way down, aside from the buzz atop his head. Other than that…he looked almost exactly as she remembered him.

She bit her lip and almost turned back in that moment, but Ahsoka was frozen in place, unable to force herself to turn away. It had been so long since she last saw him, and while he didn't seem to notice her yet, it was only a matter of time if she remained in place.

_Take one thing for granted, and you'll never see it again._

Who knew Trilla's words would ever translate to something good?

Ahsoka stepped forward…and kept on. Immediately her throat's moisture evaporated, but she kept moving, coming up just behind him from his spot on the crate.

"Finally decided to help me?" he remarked, and she deducted he wasn't regarding her. "Who knew a stun stick could actually hurt me?"

"You've survived worse," Ahsoka said, pausing in place out of his vision.

Wraith froze, and she sensed disbelief within him at the sound of her voice. When he turned, his hardened gaze fell soft, and his eyelids fluttered as he seemed to need to process who stood before him.

"_Ahsoka_…?" he gasped, barely a whisper. "Wha-…you're here?"

She swallowed hard, involuntarily crossing her arms. "Yeah…I-I am…" she stammered, and then realized that was obvious. "How are you?"

He blinked again, trying to search for words. "H-how am I…uh…well, I'm good, actually. Caught a stun stick in the back," he jerked his thumb towards the purple bruise that was there, and it made Ahsoka wince. "I know, I know…I should be more careful."

Ahsoka shook her head, slightly confused. "I wasn't going to say that…"

Wraith narrowed his eyes. "What?"

The togruta felt her own pair aim towards the floor in slight embarrassment. "You're not mad at me?"

"Why would I—" he paused. "Why would I be mad at you?"

"Well, it's just…y-you know…"

Wraith just stared at her, waiting for her to finish, which irritated her for some odd reason. Part of her just wanted to run away now, feeling entrapped by his ignorance to why she felt so uncomfortable.

_Just say it. Get it off your chest._

"You're not mad about me breaking up with you?" she grimaced internally. That came out a little more childish than she wanted.

Wraith scoffed. "That was six years ago. I hope I don't give off the impression of being someone who's petty."

"No, you don't," she shook her head. "I just hoped you didn't think it was…about _you_."

He snorted at that. "Ahsoka…of course it was about me," he denied. "But I get it…now anyway…I know I might've been a little…_harsh_ about it."

Admittedly, that was putting it _mildly_.

"But it's over now…done," he waved off. "I've moved on."

She gulped at that. "Moved on" could mean many things, not all of them good, and it was even more terrifying to think that he had completely _moved on_ from her. Sure, she would have no right to be upset…but still…

"Good," she found herself saying, which probably wasn't the best response, but those were the words that came out of her mouth. The awkwardness was so intense she could hardly keep looking his way, but she held firm.

"So…what are you doing here?" he asked, and then backtracked. "Not that I want you to leave…"

"I know," she tipped her head with a small smile. "I'm here with a friend, actually…well, kind of a friend."

"A _friend_," he flatly echoed, adjusting in his spot so he could face her directly.

"Yeah…you've met her before, actually…"

_And almost snapped her neck._

Maybe keep who they were out for now.

Wraith snorted. "The only _girl_ friend you ever had was Barris Offee, and well…that narrows it down to basically no one."

"That's not true," Ahsoka shook her head. "Don't you remember Effa? She was with Anakin a lot. She liked hanging out with me."

"So you brought her?"

"Well, no…"

That's because Effa Azulia had been morphed into the Third Sister, became accomplice to the deaths of many Jedi, and then was killed by a Sith Lord named Darth Vader.

"Then who did you bring?" he asked again, taking a sip of his drink.

Ahsoka wasn't really sure where she was going with this anymore, or why it mattered. Huffing to herself and finally taking a seat beside him, she said, "Does it matter?"

He regarded her a moment, before looking away again. "I guess not."

Then she realized she had no idea what to say after that was over with, finally realizing how poor her socialization skills had become since she became Fulcrum. It seemed so hard to just _talk_, which was strange, but it needed to happen…especially if she was going to be able to leave here without any kind of regret.

So she just spoke from her heart.

"What have you been up to?"

* * *

**13 BBY – Imperial Gunship**

Nerah only watched with subtle understanding as Markov relayed orders to their squad, her helmet in hand while the other gripped the handle above. They were currently flying over the capital city of Iziz with a convoy of other gunships carrying squads of stormtroopers, and from what she could tell, there was an insurgent camp they had marked for destruction.

This would be her chance to let loose. The rush she felt was incredible, and it had been a long time since she last felt this way. She'd been on live fire assignments before, but Csilla was so isolated that they hadn't been at war in her lifetime. Mostly she had been in charge of infiltration, recon and surveillance, not systematic elimination.

With all the supposed unrest within the Empire, she imagined her services would be in high demand.  
"…good luck," she caught Markov say once the other men nodded, and that was her time to turn to Nerah, electing to speak Cheunh as to save time. "Helmet on," she directed, tapping her gloved knuckles atop her own metal headgear.

Nerah obeyed, sliding over her special forces helmet and prompting the HUD to go live. It wasn't as comfortable as the one she wore back home, but its tech was certainly more advanced.

"When you reach the surface, you're to go off on your own. I'm giving you your coordinates now," she relayed, and with a few taps of her datapad, they were displayed on her HUD. "We need you to be as quiet as possible. Push to that location and kill anyone in your path that isn't an Imperial. You should already have IFF systems installed, which should identify your targets for you. Should that ever falter, use your best judgment."

The chiss nodded. "What should I expect?"

"Rag tag rabble that shouldn't be underestimated. You're fighting them on their home planet, so don't expect to scare them. Other than that, they're rather poorly equipped, so don't expect any surprises in the form of weaponry," she explained. "Anything else?"

Nerah shook her head, and then spoke in Basic, "_Understood_."

"Good," Markov praised, just as the gunship shook heavily.

"_Tempest squad, hang tight_," the intercom relayed. "_Landfall in fifteen seconds._"

Those fifteen seconds passed by in a flash, and soon Nerah saw the tropics below blown away from the downdraft as the doors slid open, and her boots hit the ground. Brandishing her compact blaster carbine from over her shoulder, she began to traverse through the trees to her target.

* * *

Trilla ran her thumb over the slick drive in her grip. It was small, its design sleek and simple, and yet she was told it held the necessary coding upgrades to grant Rava an even more enhanced intelligence, which seemed impossible. She was the most advanced model in the galaxy, and to think shew could be any smarter almost felt like overkill.

They called it an "Index".

Sliding it away for now, she followed Saw to where Ahsoka and Wraith were sitting together, sharing a few laughs between words. Trilla wasn't sure how she felt about that…or if she even felt anything at all.

"Tano!" Saw called out, not caring much for the conversation they were in the middle of. "The exchange is done. You're free to go."

She didn't look as excited to get moving as Trilla initially imagined she would, but her professionalism seemed to win out, drawing her to her feet much to Wraith's obvious displeasure. Seeing his face again was…strange…as the last time she saw him was from above as his fist closed around her neck. Even if she knew at the time that most of that debacle was her doing, it still didn't change the fact that he was an enemy, and after he had nearly killed Xur in their scrap, Trilla remained guarded.

If he came near him again, she'd kill him herself.

"That was quick," Ahsoka remarked, and then the awkwardness settled in as she turned back to Wraith. "You remember Trilla…right?"

He regarded her, and Trilla wore nothing telling in her expression. There was nothing to show.

"So you survived too, huh?" he asked.

Trilla's gaze shortened. "In a sense."

Before she could explain what that meant, Saw already took the floor back. "Our Benefactor sent us a weapon, but it's too powerful for any of us to handle. I think you may be the man for the job, Seppie."

Trilla held back a snort of laughter.

"He has a name…" Ahsoka grumbled.

"And I'll use it when he earns it," Saw retorted. "Other than that, you two can be on your way. I've set up…"

Trilla found her senses spiking and probing outwards, and it was difficult to focus on her immediate surroundings. Her spine tingled, neck hairs raised, and immediately she knew she was being hunted.

No…_they_ were being hunted.

"You may want to belay that," Trilla interrupted Saw, who turned her way. "Some _thing_ is on its way here."

"How do you know that?" Saw narrowed his eyes. "The Empire is still hulled up in Iziz while they gather strength, and our scouts haven't reported anything."

Trilla only gave him a hard stare. "Disregard my instincts at your own peril, Gerrera."

He only tested her for a moment, but she won their stare down. "Are you offering to stick around?"

She nodded. "You'll be glad I did."

All that caretaking had made her hungry for a little blood.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. This one took a little longer, but I'm trying not to burn myself out, which may be on the horizon here. I'm kinda struggling to press forward with no real goal in sight, so these in-between chapters will probably be a little shorter. I have one more in mind for this arc, but after that I'm going to have the final in between chapter before the large time jump that will bring us closer to the next novel. Stay tuned!**

**I also wanted to reach out and say thank you all from the bottom of my heart, as this story has surpassed all my previous works in terms of views. In 6 months this story has reached almost 20,000 views, which is more than _Star Wars Eons Episode I: The Clone Wars_ ever got in 5 years. On top of that, we are very close to 100 followers, and I never imagined this story ever becoming as popular as it has, so once again, thanks to all of you for sticking around and giving me great feedback.**

**With this college quarter nearing its end, expect slower updates until June for the most part. I'll try to stick to one chapter a week.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**PS- Also, if I have any fellow Avatar: The Last Airbender fans out there, I've released my pilot chapter for a little side story I'll be working on. Swoop by my profile if you're interested!**


	39. Clash of the Titans

**Clash of the Titans**

"Fighting is simple. Kill the guy aiming at you."

**13 BBY – Onderon **

"You said coil gun?" Wraith asked, lifting the hefty electromagnetic weapon before the open clearing. Trilla watched from the side as Saw explained, showing Wraith how to position himself. Its grip was more like a repeating minigun, but she'd never seen a weapon of this make before. It _looked_ heavy and Saw had trouble just handing it to the super soldier.

"Imperium says it's a type of coil gun. This make is apparently called a 'gauss cannon'," Saw corrected, instinctually taking a step back towards Ahsoka. "Apparently it has an immense kickback that an average human can't manage, which is the only reason I'm letting you take the reins on this one."

"I see," Wraith mused, taking a look at the rotating conductor at the center of it, before it gave way to the long barrel that was already sparking as it built up energy. "So unlike what the Empire is used to, this is a projectile weapon…which isn't something the Empire has any protection against…" he slowly looked to Trilla for confirmation, and to her slight annoyance, as did everyone else.

What people seem to forget is that Trilla had been out for almost a year now, so she was down to guesswork at best. She had no idea what kind of tech the Empire was conjuring up, and she didn't even know much when she _was_ working for them. It's not like they let every operative in on what was taking place behind closed doors.

All she granted them was a shrug. "Not that I'm aware of."

"What we _are_ aware of, is that it can punch through an AT-ST hull like piss through snow," Saw explained, and then pointed down their makeshift firing range to the blasted head of an AT-ST. "If you will…let's see if you can handle it."

Trilla felt a natural instinct to take a step back, as did everyone else, but she planted her feet where she stood. For whatever reason, she felt it necessary to display her foolhardy disregard for the fear of her life, which did much to inspire others to follow. That felt prudent in this situation, strange as the thought was.

Wraith shored up his shoulders, doing his best to aim the weapon in a proper fashion, despite its slightly cumbersome design. Once he seemed to be sure of his aim, he squeezed the trigger.

The firing sound was best compared to an extremely loud _spitting_ noise, followed by an electrical discharge out the front of the barrel as it kicked back. Out came a nearly blinding light that ripped through the air, tearing through the hull just as Saw promised, and when they could all see again, the damage that had been done was more than any heavy rocket had ever ravaged…and certainly much less dramatic. No fire; almost no trace…just horrific structural damage.

Trilla watched Wraith shake off the blast, looking stunned for the first time she had ever witnessed. She herself had not moved, merely maintaining her cross-armed stance as she watched. The same could not be said for Ahsoka, who was still taking steps back.

"Impressive," Trilla remarked. "I'm not sure _what_ could survive being hit by such a blast."

Ahsoka finally stepped forward. "Are you alright?" she asked Wraith, trying to hide any over-concern, but wasn't as successful this time around.

"Sithspit…this damn thing kicks," Wraith groaned, but reassured his stance. "But I like it. About time someone gave me a big gun."

Once again, Trilla felt her neck tingle, and her gaze shifted towards the edge of the camp, her fingers twitching for her hilt. This had been the worst pulse yet, and it was making her far too uneasy to continue standing and watching.

It was time to do what she did best.

Sliding over her helmet and allowing it to seal, Trilla took her leave, only to be stopped by Ahsoka's voice. "Uh…where are you going?"

Trilla only graced her with the side of her violet gaze. "I think I fancy a walk."

* * *

Nerah had been trained to deal with unpleasant conditions here and there, but with her young upbringing, they had focused more on weapons, tactical movement and martial arts. She was nearly a master at all three by now, but she was beginning to wish she had spent more time acclimating to climates that were less like her own home planet of Csilla, which was known for its frigid weather, snow and cold.

Onderon wasn't _any _of those things.

Her helmet had built-in climate control, so as to prevent sweat from ever covering her eyes, but the same could not be said for the rest of her suit, which was only becoming more of a heater the more ground she covered. Tropics were something she never had enjoyed any time she had been assigned to a planet with such a climate, and that belief was only being reinforced the more sweat that built up beneath her suit.

Not to mention the _bugs_. Csilla had very little insect life because of its cold climate, so the constant buzzing and flybys of her HUD infuriated her the longer they persisted. Still, her focus remained, and she stubbornly persisted through the mud and grime that stood between her and the rebel encampment ahead.

Mission parameters were simple, for once, as she had been merely directed to press ahead and kill anyone that wasn't an Imperial. She had _also_ been told that civilian casualties were not to be worried about…but Nerah had never taken pride in gunning down the helpless…that was unless the fate of the mission hung in the balance. That thought had only reminded her of a less than pleasant memory…so she set it aside for now.

Heat signatures came up on her HUD, and Nerah deftly slid behind a patch of brush that hid her from view, whilst also deactivating the red glow of her visor. It seemed to be two men pacing on a patrol sweep, blasters over their chests. Tuning into her eavesdropping devices, she listened in on their conversation.

It played out via her internal speakers, translated from Basic into Cheunh, "_…the boss say why we have to increase patrols? The Empire is locked up in Iziz._"

"_Not sure_," the other answered. "_Something about that Jedi that showed up. Apparently she can sense someone is out here prowling us._"

Nerah's throat ran dry.

"_Are you sure? That Jedi used to be an Imperial…I'm not so sure we can trust her._"

The other shrugged. "_Better safe than sorry._"

"_Yeah, you say that now, but I was planning on hitting some of that—_" she cut the feed, shoring herself up.

After one damn mission, the Empire had already dropped the ball on secrecy, not to mention intel. Nothing ever listed that a Jedi would be present, and while Nerah had only heard the stories, she wasn't sure which parts about them were true. Judging by the fact that they already knew she was here, the future-seeing clairvoyance abilities seemed to have themselves checked off the list.

She considered recommending a strategic retreat, but then knew that Thrawn would never accept such a thing, not when they hadn't even tested their defenses and resolve.

Besides…that would be embarrassing for her first mission, and she was not in the mood for a lecture when she returned. Her trigger finger was itching anyhow, and while she was directed to keep quiet…a little noise in the wrong place could work wonders for initiating distraction.

Engaging her silencer mod, she crept forward through the brush, keeping her steps light while also avoiding any twigs underfoot. Once she came close enough, she scooped up a rock with one hand and hurled it directly at a tree to their opposite side, and the loud tap drew their attention away.

"The hell…?" one questioned, his blaster raised, while his partner laughed.

"You're skittish as hell. Sit tight, man!"

That's when Nerah slid out from her hiding place and fired two precise shots that ripped through their heads, unable to even emit a scream in pain before they both flopped onto the dirt. Moving quickly, she dragged their bodies into the brush with her unnatural strength, and then proceeded to press forward…bearing towards the camp with a silent and precise ferocity.

* * *

"Have you seen the new Z-6 model?"

The white-armored stormtrooper companion shook his head as he stepped over the Onderon brush, avoiding the mud as best he could. "Are you kidding? As soon as I get my next pay raise I'm buying that damn thing."

"As soon as? You mean _if_," the other corrected.

"Cut the chatter back there," the orange shoulder ordered, leading his squad through the jungle with his blaster primed. "This place is crawling with hostiles and you're talking about _speeders?_"

"Sorry, sir…"

"You're damn right you are."

There was a shift in the nearby wind flow, and a few troopers raised their blasters in various directions, brought fully alert.

The commander waved his hand forward. "Press forward. I thought I heard something," he directed, stepping forward. The rest of his squad followed, some on edge, and others not so much.

A slight gasp sounded, followed by another rush of wind, and when the commander whirled around…he was short one man.

Now _everyone_ was on edge.

"The hell…where'd Jenkins go?" one questioned.

"Quiet!" the commander shouted, keeping his blaster trained on the surrounding bushes. "Keep an eye out for movement."

"Gah!" another shouted, but he was gone just as quickly as his shout began.

"Ho-…shit!"

"_Uhhhh_ I don't wanna die here!"

"What the fuck is going on?!"

"Shut the fuck up!" the commander shouted again, only to turn and see that he was the only one remaining. Fear ravaged him as he probed the area, sweat dripping into his eyes as the last man standing…and the anticipation that he would be next resulting in trembling and unending terror.

Shivering, he shouted. "I…I know you're out there! Show yourself!"

Nothing…just the sounds of animals and the sputtering of insects.

"Boo."

The commander jumped, whipping his blaster around only to be caught in a harsh, steel grip, his neck squeezed to prevent any airflow as his feet left the ground. Through his eyes he saw a violet slit…and someone dressed in an all-consuming black outfit.

Trilla's finger was placed over where her mouth would be, and she leaned in. "_Shhhh_," she hushed, carrying him over to a secluded area…the place where the rest of his dead squad had been taken. "If you scream…I will snap your neck…but not before I break each of your fingers _individually_."

He could say nothing, not until she dropped him at her feet. As his breaths returned, he gasped, looking up to Trilla's tall frame as she knelt before him. "What does the Empire want with Onderon?" she asked in a low tone, altered even deeper through her helmet.

"I-I don't know," the commander stammered.

Trilla's prosthetic fist crushed his fingers beneath its power, and he yelped in intense pain. "I'm going to need you to think _harder_."

"An example!" he shouted, grasping his wrist. "And they're…_ah_…testing a new method!"

"Method?" Trilla queried. "Explain."

"I don't know, I swear!" he promised. "They wouldn't tell us! Something about a girl…an alien."

_Alien…hmmm._

"Who is in charge of this assault?"

"A-another alien…his name is Thrawn," he revealed. "Look…just please let me go. I've got kids…two daughters. I won't say anything…I swear."

Trilla's fist clenched as he broke off from her questioning, but his speech of his children made her pause. Despite knowing the most efficient course of action was to end this man's life and be done with it, she couldn't…not if she knew she'd be parting two young girls with their father.

_The Empire tortured me for months…why should I care?!_

Then she remembered Katara…and the pain she would feel if she had ever lost _her_ father, not to mention the unspeakable agony Trilla would have to swim through.

The Empire may have tortured her…but this man hadn't, and while he may be lying, she couldn't take that chance.

With a frustrated huff, Trilla rose to her feet. "Go…but if I ever spot you wearing this uniform again, I will not hesitate to end your life."

He looked up. "Really?"

"Go!" she nigh bellowed, and he scrambled to his feet, scampering off while holding his injured hand. If he were smart, he'd play as if he were injured, not deserting, otherwise the Empire would execute him anyway.

She let it be. It was time to report her findings…and find this alien girl.

* * *

"The _entire_ squad?" Markov echoed, cocking her head for clarification, just as the scouts returned, their armor sullied with mud. "Gone?"

"That's right, Agent," he nodded, shivering slightly. "We found one, alive…he was hurt, but he's being treated. He said he saw someone dark…menacing."

The Fourth Sister shifted in her cross-armed stance, but Markov ignored it for now. "Dark and menacing? I've never known insurgents to adopt such qualities."

"It's her," the Inquisitor beside her blurted, her mask covering her face, and the purge troopers at her back shivered slightly.

"Who is _her?_" Markov asked, unsure as to why the alarm had come up.

The Inquisitor faced the ISB agent directly, loosening her arms to fall upon her hips. "The Second Sister."

_Second Sister? But she's…_

All everyday Imperial troopers, and even most special forces, had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Markov had rarely worked with Inquisitors, and of those, the Second Sister was the one she had worked with by far the most…which wasn't saying much. That woman was the most heartless and utterly diabolical human being she had ever met, and to think she would betray the Empire wasn't entirely out of the question, but Inquisitors weren't known for defecting…in fact any who had tried wound up disappearing without a trace. After the destruction of Fortress Inquisitorious…there were only a sporadic few left around the galaxy.

But even with all that…why would she be _here?_ Onderon was so deep in Imperial territory that it could do little to bolster a hidden movement of insurgency, but the current hotbed could influence other worlds to get ideas as well.

In fact, the more she considered it, the more she realized that Onderon was perhaps a planet in which the galaxy was now watching…waiting to see if the Empire could adjust to a devastating blow.

"And…what makes you think _she_ is here?" Markov raised her brow.

Fourth Sister shrugged. "I can feel it."

"_Right_," Markov suppressed an eye roll, turning to her commander. "What are our options for heavy armor?"

He didn't look so optimistic, even with his helmet over his face. "Limited, sir. AT-STs are sitting ducks in this thick brush, and an AT-AT is too big for this uneven terrain. Armored troop carriers are perhaps the best we have."

Markov scoffed. "What, no tanks?"

"No sir," he shook his head. "The insurgents ransacked them all days ago."

She scowled to herself. "Very well. Bring the transports," she directed, and the commander began to give the order while Markov turned to the Inquisitor. "And you…use your _senses_ to hunt your quarry."

The Fourth Sister only gave her a nod, and then flicked her head for her purge unit to follow in her wake.

"The rest of you, on me!" she directed, drawing her dual pistols as she stepped into the brush, the Imperial platoon at her back. "Into the jungle."

_And hope Nerah is having better luck than we are._

* * *

Trilla marched back into the camp, drawing stunned eyes from some of the insurgent soldiers as she passed in her full getup, pacing directly to where she had left Ahsoka, Wraith and Saw. In this go, she was two for three, as Wraith and Ahsoka were still by the firing range conversing…only this time with a new face joining them.

And it didn't look so friendly.

"I am merely trying to assist your efforts as a favor to Saw…I have no personal stake here," a slick, shaven and attractive man around her age spoke in a more core-centered accent, his attire much less ragged than those around the camp. "And I just meant to regard Ahsoka before I took my leave."

Wraith grumbled; his arms crossed tightly. "I don't know what game you're trying to play Bonteri, but you're always conveniently playing both sides too much for my taste."

Ahsoka pinched the bridge of her nose. "Will you two just…" she trailed off once she noticed Trilla approaching. "That was quick."

Trilla chuckled to herself slightly. "I see I have returned to more troubled times than I had left them."

The new face regarded her with slight caution, pulling his hand back. "I'm sorry…and you are?"

"Not someone that will fall prey to such a feeble concealment of a blaster," Trilla motioned towards his fist, and he pulled away quickly.

Ahsoka groaned. "Right…Lux, this is Trilla. Trilla, Lux."

She knew that name…Lux Bonteri, but she could not place where for the life of her, and she was more concerned with the man walking by with drinks in hand. With a wave, he noticed, and without hesitation tossed her one, while saying "Fuck the Empire!"

Trilla snorted, which came out much louder behind her helmet. "Cheers to that," popping the cap off the bottle with the edge of her gauntlet. With her free hand, she released her helmet and set it aside, taking a hefty drink and letting out a refreshing huff. All eyes were on her, Lux especially, and she could only shrug. "What? Did you expect a terrifying face behind this mask?" she let her elbow tap it in regard.

Lux looked away and sniffed, leaving Trilla to only silently giggle to herself. The awkwardness was so thick she felt as if she was wading through it, and it was about time she had to chance to witness it instead of being a part of it. "Do continue," she waved on.

"We just finished," Wraith half-growled, sliding his helmet over his head and lifting the hefty gauss cannon, taking his leave. "Ahsoka."

The togruta looked flushed, and that was when Lux took the hint, slowly scrambling off to his other duties around camp. Trilla, however, was not so cruel, and found herself gravitating towards Ahsoka in a slow walk until her higher eyelevel looked slightly down to her.

"Men…" she began. "They are infuriating, stupid, and most of the time detrimental to us…and yet here we are, constantly chasing after them."

Ahsoka snorted with slight amusement. "How did you ever find success with that kind of mentality?"

Trilla shrugged, twisting the bottle in her grip. "I happened to find one that at least isn't stupid…most of the time anyway. Infuriating…always…but not detrimental to me…" she found her eyes looking away, glossing over as her tumultuous journey replayed before her eyes. "…not in the slightest."

The togruta sighed, crossing her arms. "I don't get it."

The former inquisitor took another drink, letting the slight buzz set in. "I can tell you _exactly_ why you and he are the way you are."

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes, listening in.

"Men will never admit it, and I told a friend of mine this, who, as you can note, is now happily with the Jedi I tried to kill once…or _four_ times…" she trailed off, and then realized her tangent was pointless. "Anyhow, men want two things: safety and security. You, my dear, give Wraith neither of those things."

She listened in, cocking her brow. "What's this about this Jedi you tried to kill?"

Trilla deadpanned. "Are you going to heed my advice or not?"

"Right…sorry," Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "Do continue."

She focused herself, filtering the intoxication for a moment. "You give that bloody man more stress than anything else. He's spent most of this time thinking he'll never see you again when you depart. That's no way to build a relationship. There's no security."

"Back up," Ahsoka pointed. "You say security…which can also translate to safety, right?"

Trilla wasn't sure where she was headed now. "I suppose, yes."

She crossed her arms. "And you tried to kill Xur…_how_ many times again?"

Trilla's emerald eyes paced upwards as her fingers tapped on the bottle, counting each time…even the ones in which he was the Second Brother. "Fourteen…I believe, but that's not counting the time I _actually_ killed him."

Ahsoka leaned back.

"I brought him back," Trilla eased nonchalantly. "Hence why I cannot heal wounds any longer."

"You brought him back from the _dead?_" Ahsoka echoed for clarification.

Trilla let her brow slant downwards in slight frustration. "Would you like me to say it in Togruti?"

"That's a little bit racist."

"That isn't what I—" Trilla just stopped herself, deciding to take a more direct approach. "What I am trying to say is, you need to tell Wraith precisely what you want from him. No more of this beating around the bush game, otherwise you'll just drive each other mad."

"Right…because you're just so brilliant at remaining calm," Ahsoka's frustration spiked, which seemed to be a mixture of her current anxiety with the reveal of Trilla's less than ideal past. "I'll bet Xur felt extremely secure when you drove your blade straight through his heart."

Trilla's prosthetic hand clenched around her bottle. "You have not a _clue_ what I went through."

"What about those other Jedi you cut down?" Ahsoka challenged. "Did they feel _safe?_"

"You weren't strapped to a chair and made to _scream_ at anyone's leisure!" Trilla bellowed, and her hand crushed the bottle in a cascade of glass and alcohol onto the dirt, but her eyes never left Ahsoka's gaze. "If you insist to continue testing me, you will see just how _damaged_ I am."

"I'm going to need you ladies to settle this another time," Saw's voice interrupted their stare down, and Trilla spotted him watching from a reasonable distance, his rifle over his chest. "We've got company."

"Just give us a moment," Ahsoka insisted, and her calmer tone confused Trilla somewhat, which seemed to win Saw over for the moment.

"Not too long," he pointed, and then began issuing commands, leaving them to finish their discussion.

"Do you want to know who my informant was inside the Fortress?" Ahsoka asked, keeping an intense stare that demanded Trilla's attention, despite her current rising anger. "Lieutenant Commander Davos Blaze."

_Of course he was._

"And while I didn't know the Second Sister was _you_ precisely, he told me _everything_," she revealed…and Trilla only slightly looked away. "Right up until you killed him."

"It was an accident," Trilla corrected.

"Was Xur's death an _accident?_"

Trilla could only imagine squeezing the life out of this meddling and bitchy togruta just for reminding her _twice_ of the most traumatic moment of her life…but her words were hitting too close to home for her to retaliate. Those were the two things she regretted most when she was the Second Sister, and while she herself had moved on, it was too much to expect everyone else to simply write it off and forget.

Ahsoka least of all. While it was obvious she had Xur no longer had any romantic ties, Ahsoka still regarded him as a close friend, and it was only then that Trilla realized how adversely the news of his temporary death would affect her.

"I understand what the Empire did to you, more than you realize," Ahsoka eased, her expression calm and straight, and Trilla almost envied her ability to do so. "And I'm sorry…but that doesn't mean we can just write off the past like some kind of joke."

Trilla felt her lip tremble. "All of those people…all of those Jedi I killed…their faces will be seared within my mind for the _rest_ of my life, and if you believe for a second that I don't blame myself every waking moment for those deaths…then you _don't_ understand me. When Xur died…there is no greater pain you could ever experience when you kill someone you love, and I don't expect you to ever understand that, _perfect_ as you are."

"I'm not saying I'm perfect—"

"Oh, but you _are_," Trilla denied. "You always hold yourself to such a standard of paragon perfection, and I grow tired of you constantly regarding me as if I'm some broken soul who needs _your_ help.

"_I_ am content with myself," Trilla backed away, calling her helmet into her hand as she turned. "I cannot say the same for _you_."

* * *

Nerah knew the battle first started once blasterfire began to sound off in the area she had left behind, but it didn't really resonate until she could feel collapsing trees shaking the ground with each time they fell. Based on what she could assume, the Empire had finally decided to bring in the heavy armor, and that would certainly make it easier for Nerah to slip past distracted guards.

Even if there were a lot of bodies in her wake.

She hadn't been detected yet, but she could tell that her presence was becoming suspected, as patrols were becoming larger and much better equipped…not like it made much of a difference. No man could possibly wrestle her grip from their neck or shoot nearly as well as she could, and despite all of those fights, her gloves were still spotless.

Always priding herself in bloodless combat, Nerah wasn't the "slayer" her super-solider predecessors had been, known for ripping apart whole armies in a blood-guzzling rage and fervor that painted them as horrific gods of death. While Nerah's kill counts would certainly be no lower, she saw no need to make anyone suffer needlessly. Whether it be the quick turn of the neck or a precise shot through the brain, she believed in efficiency, and bloodless combat was by far the quickest way to cut through entire legions.

And intimidation could be just as effective by merely having a victim watch his friend drop dead in the blink of an eye.

Creeping behind a tree, Nerah had finally reached the camp, and she held her carbine over her chest as she leaned in, probing the area for a clean look. It was not as populated now that most had headed into the jungle, and from her first look, all she spotted was a masked soldier carrying an unfamiliar device over his shoulder speaking to a horned alien she had never seen before.

Whoever they were…they seemed like more than common foot soldiers.

Removing her silencer mod from her carbine, Nerah twisted the weapon to still conceal herself behind the tree and lined up her shot.

Somehow, just before she pulled the trigger, the alien reacted. "Look out!" she shouted, and white blades of pure light blazed to life, swiping upwards and deflecting the perfect headshot she had let loose upon the unawares soldier.

"Fucking hell," she cursed under her breath in Cheunh, advancing with an onslaught of blasterfire that tested the alien's defenses. The soldier was quick, brandishing a blaster pistol and retaliating, and Nerah's quick reflexes had the bolts discharge off her shoulder pads. Switching targets, she fired again, this time at the soldier, making the alien work just as hard to protect him. Taking advantage of the alien's shift, she fired a precise shot that ripped into the alien's hand, and her gasp had her drop to one knee for a moment.

"Ahsoka!" the soldier cried.

She was not down for long, and quickly Nerah felt herself tumbling through the air after Ahsoka stretched out her hand, feeling as if she had been slammed into by a tree trunk. Her carbine knocked from her grip, Nerah flipped back to her feet, only to be tackled by the immense power of the targeted soldier, and oxygen was quickly cut from her lungs as he wrapped his strong arms around her neck.

"You'll _die_ for that!" he growled.

Fighting through the strain, Nerah grasped ahold of each of his wrists and pulled. Slowly, but absolutely, she pulled his hands from her neck, instilling an undeniable amount of shock within him as her strength won out, and she took advantage of that to plant her foot on his chest and kick him off. Flipping to her feet, he swung again, but she merely caught his powerful swing with her forearm.

"_What the hell…_" he whispered.

Nerah herself was groaning slightly from the strain, and to say she wasn't stunned would be a lie. No one had _ever _matched her power or strength…and yet here this man was…holding her off.

Could he be…?

Her distraction proved costly as he grappled her arm and took her down roughly, and she felt her arm scream in pain as her tendons stretched and pulled. Letting out a hellish cry, Nerah wrapped her legs around his neck in a triangle choke, which freed her arm as he pushed her off, and her somersault flipped her back onto her feet.

Not before his helmet was removed from his head. Tumbling out, Nerah felt a distinct recognition…even if she had never seen his face before. She could tell by his facial structure, the muscles…the eyes.

"You…_him_," Nerah noticed in Basic, circling her opponent. "_Wraith_," she uttered his name.

"Yeah," Wraith nodded, catching his breath. "And who are you?"

"Not of your business," Nerah continued to circle, and then pointed to herself. "Me…new. You, old."

All she knew about the Wraith was that her serum was derived from his own, and her strength was supposedly greater than his, but as of now she wasn't noting any sort of vast improvement. If anything, they were equally balanced, and the Empire had never accounted for him being here…as well as this Jedi woman.

Which made her job all the more essential to an Imperial victory.

Ahsoka finally rose to her feet, shaking off the charred burn mark on the back of her hand and igniting her blades. Now the odds were supremely out of her favor…which would require her to be more crafty than usual.

Flipping her holdout blasters from her sleeves, she opened fire.

* * *

Trilla felt like a god.

It was so effortless…cutting through the squads of stormtroopers and even some special forces with such ease, her blade almost like a brush as she painted the night with the gold she knew so well. Screams filled her ears as lives were ended in an instant, cutting through upper bodies and torsos with precision that allowed for maximum efficiency, and she could feel the advancing insurgent troops follow in her wake.

Such a shame that the Empire truly regarded stormtroopers as expendable resources, as she only continued to expel them in droves as they continued to attempt to break through her unstoppable advance. She almost began to feel a sense of guilt…but replacing each of their faces with those that had tortured her made it all the easier to continue her rampage through the jungles of Onderon.

Then it finally got interesting.

Troop carriers rolled through, knocking down trees at their trunks as the forward cannons fired upon the advancing troopers. Trilla's blade spun in a fan of yellow as she protected herself, and with lightning speed she zig-zagged between each flurry of fire, dragging her blade through the cannon barrels and severing them useless. She almost chuckled as all her knowledge of Imperial systems came to bear, and with a flip atop the roof, she dashed across and dug her blade into a specific compartment of durasteel that should've been where the engine was located.

With a smirk behind her mask, she felt it buck and squeal, and when she backflipped to safety, the engine erupted in a ball of flame. Stormtroopers were cooked alive inside the compartment, and only a few were smart enough to bash open the doors and roll out, only to meet Trilla's ruthless decapitating blows as she waited for them.

Her advance had separated from the rest of the soldiers, and when she finished executing the rest, she heard the endless clicking of blasters emerging from the brush. White filled her vision as stormtroopers revealed themselves all around her, and she only held her blade at the ready.

"Inquisitor!" a familiar voice shouted, and when Trilla turned, she noticed the figure of Agent Elena Markov, a woman she had once worked with many years ago. Her expression was fierce, her skin covered in sap and dirt, but her blasters pointed true. "This is your one chance to lower your weapon peacefully."

Trilla only allowed herself to giggle, and it became a potent laugh as it persisted. "Peacefully? The last time I was offered such a proposal by the Empire…I was tortured into oblivion," she revealed, holding her blade at the ready, and some troopers seemed to be stunned by this. "If I were you, I would lower _your_ weapons and return to Iziz, where we may begin more…_audible_ negotiations."

The blasters only advanced further, as did Markov. "You're surrounded! Surely you can see that you cannot win!"

Trilla spat, tightening her grip on her hilt. "All I see are empty promises…and _dead men._"

Markov made the fatal mistake of opening her mouth one last time.

Trilla deactivated her hilt and spun rapidly, outstretching her hands to unleash a force push that impacted each trooper daring to point their blasters in her direction. White armored men screamed as they flew through the air, some merely landing roughly, and a few were impaled by splintered tree trunks or cast into burning fires. Markov rolled back to her feet, but by then Trilla was fazing into attack mode, driving her blade clean through her first victim as he groaned his final groan. Blasterfire raged her way, but her speed was too quick, some bolts even committing friendly fire as she raced around her quarry at an alarming speed. She reached out with her prosthetic and struck paydirt, crushing a trachea on her grip, and then proceeded to throw his body aside and reignite her blade, deflecting each attack with the spin mechanism at full power.

Tossing her blade with a slight sadistic smirk, she let it carve through their numbers as she disappeared from view again, using her fists to beat down others while her blade cut through them like a scythe. Falling atop one trooper, he gasped as she slammed her fist into his helmet, shattering the duraplast with the third blow and cracking his skull, before one of his companions fired a blast straight into her helmet. Grunting from the deflected blow, her saber clapped back into her hand, but she holstered it quickly, dodging a foolhardy rifle bash and grabbing ahold of his arm, twisting it until she heard tendons snap and his scream echo.

Ending his life with an uppercut of her blade, she felt herself knocked to the dirt by a kick, and Markov fired down upon her in a flurry that was only stopped by Trilla's double vision as she rolled away, kicking her blasters right from her grip. The ISB agent didn't give up, snarling as her shins slammed into Trilla's gauntlets once she was back on her feet, and the former inquisitor grunted as one boot winded her from its powerful kick.

Trilla breathed, holding her hands out in front. "Your technique is not bad, Agent…but it is limited by your lack of desire to branch out beyond the confines of Imperial academies."

Markov only spit blood from her mouth as she circled. "If you believe that to be the case, then you are in for a surprise, _traitor_."

"Just so long as you realize I will not need my hands to kill you."

"Jedi _coward_," she growled, but then felt her throat close as she was suspended in the air, Trilla's hand outstretched with a shaking anger.

"I am _no_ Jedi," Trilla snarled through her mask.

"Neither am I."

Danger sense rattled her spine as Trilla released Markov and batted away a crimson blade with her own, and she watched the spinning hilt smack back into the hand of the Fourth Sister. Her short frame was all too familiar from various training bouts, and while Trilla had never known the Inquisitor personally, she knew plenty about _every_ being that donned one of those uniforms.

"Jayne Hype," Trilla spat, pacing. "What a shame you weren't among those who perished when the Fortress went up in flames. You were always a difficult insect to crush."

"Well, I am glad you haven't shed any tears," Jayne retorted, twirling her blade. "Shows you haven't changed much at all."

That comment alone made Trilla want to strangle her for her ignorance, but that was its intention. She stifled the reaction and used it to continue to establish her dominance over the battlefield, just as she had done thus far.

"Oh, I have changed _much_, but not in any capacity you could possibly understand. I am no longer the slave I once was. Now I am unchained…_free_…while you remain locked to the handler that had broken you."

Jayne advanced, twirling her blade. "You always talked too much."

_Suit yourself, runt._

With a spin of her hilt, Trilla fazed forward.

As their duel began, Markov picked herself up, her black hair in her eyes as she shook it out. Frustrated, she activated her commlink as she scooted away along the ground. "Cut a swath with the transports and bring me those _fucking_ AT-STs," she demanded. "_Now!_"

"_There is no need to shout, Agent Markov_," Thrawn calmly replied, which was not who she had tried to contact. "_We have played their game for long enough. Your AT-STs are already inbound._"

Markov grumbled. "Where?"

* * *

Fighting a Jedi and a Super Soldier was an incredibly poor decision, and Nerah was beginning to wonder why she ever thought it wasn't in the first place. Shooting at Wraith to draw Ahsoka's defense had worked initially, but the pair simply began to shorten their proximity to each other, effectively erasing the need for Ahsoka to adjust at all.

And Wraith was getting fed up with her tricks.

Once he was close enough again, Nerah quickly holstered her blasters and defended his kicks and punches, but her exhaustion was beginning to show with each hit she was forced to absorb. Her personal conditioning was far above average, but Wraith was proving to be just as stalwart, and she wavered just enough for him to finally land a hard punch to her helmet that blurred her vision and knocked her to the ground. She felt it slide and roll away, leaving blood to poor down her nose as she held Wraith off from placing her in a choke hold.

"You're a…chiss…huh?" Wraith grunted as he tried to overpower her.

"_Ch'in'he'ah k'pah!_" she cursed, and wrestled him over, batting her elbow into the side of his head, only to be pulled into a headlock by the Jedi.

"Surrender!" Ahsoka urged, holding her tightly.

"_Ravri'ihah vah!_"

Two metal feet landed in a heavy heap as an Imperial dropship flew overhead, and Ahsoka looked up in horror as an AT-ST charged its weapons and marched forward. "Wraith look out!" she shouted.

Wraith rolled quickly away from the cannon fire, and that's when Nerah found her chance to free herself, muscling Ahsoka from her neck and kicking her to the ground, only to tumble through the air again via both of her outstretched hands. Landing in a heap, Nerah heard more durasteel feet hit the ground, and when she finally rose, she now had three AT-ST walkers to back her up…rampaging through the base.

"Ah…now _this_ is where the fun begins," she whispered in Cheunh, and then activated her comm. "Always knew I could count on you, big brother."

"_Maintain your focus_," Thrawn chided her. "_They are now overextended. Use that against them, Nerah._"

"Of course," she accepted, cutting the connection, scooping up her carbine, and joining in on the havoc.

* * *

Trilla pushed off Jayne's blade with a harsh shove, and the inquisitor stumbled as she advanced at a slow pace, holding her yellow blade at her side. In a fit of rage, Jayne flipped to her feet and engaged in a single-bladed acrobatic Form IV attack string, to which Trilla was already well aware of and proficient in. Feinting her exposed head with a curt bow, Jayne took the bait, slashing downwards only to watch her crimson blade slide off Trilla's deflection and take a mark to her upper arm that prompted a yelp in pain as she flipped out of the way.

"I was always better than you," Trilla mocked. "You can't win. Accept it."

"Maybe," Jayne admitted, her hand holding her singed skin. "But you can't hide forever. One of us will bring you down eventually."

"Oh, I will gladly welcome anyone who wishes to try," Trilla smirked behind her helmet, pacing forward at a slow, intimidating pace. "Your Brothers and Sisters are dead."

"Not all of them," Jayne twirled her blade into a defense stance as she backed up.

"Give it time," Trilla suddenly fazed forward, but this time Jayne was ready, ducking under Trilla's horizontal slice and hitting her with Force Slow, bringing her movements to a crawl.

"Look at you now," Jayne mocked, stabbing towards her chest, only to see Trilla's fist close shut, and a glass-shattering Force wave erupted from her. Freed from the field, as well as staggering Jayne, Trilla went on the offensive, reigniting her second blade and engaging the spin, transferring from Form II to her experimental Form VII. The dancing of her blade in such a rapid and savage fashion bore upon Jayne as Trilla snarled, and when her defensive stance finally broke, Trilla's outstretched hand catapulted her through the air, until slamming roughly into an immovable tree trunk. With her helmet dislodged, the inquisitor collapsed in a heap, and blood began to drip down her nose and into her glove as she observed it.

"What will you tell your Master when he learns you've failed?" Trilla goaded, angrily marching forward, outstretching her hand until Jayne's neck was in her prosthetic grip, pinning her to the trunk. "What will you do when your usefulness reaches its end?"

Jayne looked back at her with violet-yellow eyes, merely granting her a smirk. "I certainly won't beg and plead…not like Effa anyway."

Trilla paused, granting her only an unwavering violet stare through her helmet.

"You didn't even _try_ to save her," Jayne continued, even with Trilla's hand clasped around her throat. "You just let her _die_."

Trilla released her neck, landing a hard right hook to her jaw that downed the inquisitor in an instant, but instead of a pained groan, Jayne only laughed as she crawled along the dirt. "Go on…keep pretending to be nothing like us…but you'll _always_ be the Second Sister," she rolled over, displaying her blood-covered expression. "No matter how many times you tell yourself you're different…you still fall back into your old ways…just like _now_. All these dead men…your gloves covered with the blood of mothers and fathers you've ruthlessly killed."

Jayne looked up, her snarl becoming apparent. "Their retribution will come, and when we have your daughter…we will ensure that you _never_ see her again!"

_The Empire…taking my daughter…_

_ Never._

The Force itself rippled around her as Trilla plunged into the Dark Side, and only a blindside tackle saved Jayne from the killing blow that came next. Agent Markov ripped Trilla's mask from her head and landed a hard punch to her cheek that drew blood. With her vision hazed, Trilla welcomed the throbbing pain as if it were an old friend, and caught Markov's next swing with her metal hand, resulting in a satisfying _clang_. Despite this, Markov's martial skill proved to be superior on the ground and managed to pin Trilla with her forearm across her neck.

"Stay down, _bitch!_" Markov cursed through grit teeth.

Trilla grunted into a roar, forcing the ISB Agent off of her with raw might in the Force, flipping to her feet.

"You're all going to _die!_" she bellowed, reigniting her blade.

* * *

Wraith had faced insurmountable odds before…in fact it was what he had been created for in the first place.

This was a new one.

The odds weren't exactly insurmountable, they were just incredibly _unpredictable_, and by now he was done being surprised by Imperial tricks and hidden cards. Tossing in a female version of himself was already enough of a wrench, as well as the fact that she practiced a martial art that he was mostly unfamiliar with.

And Sithspit could she shoot.

Sure there had been other versions of himself tried and tested, and a few had made it off the operating table to assist him, but this one was something else entirely. Wraith had prided himself as the archetype, and while she was predictably faster with her slender build, she was _stronger_ as well…which boggled his mind more than anything.

_Who are you?_

His first instinct was that she could've been Banshee, but the blue skin and red eyes quickly threw that assumption out the viewport. While it could've been possible the Empire came up with their own serum…they weren't exactly fond of creating any one person who could seize power in any way with their abilities, hence why force sensitives were being actively enslaved or murdered.

No…someone _else_ had to come up with her, and then subsequentially gifted her to the Empire…but none of that mattered right now.

Not with three AT-STs tearing up their base.

"Time to break out that fancy gun," Ahsoka noted, maintaining her ready stance behind him, deflecting blasterfire.

Wraith grunted as he hoisted it from over his shoulder. "I wholeheartedly agree. Buy me some firing time."

"Already on it!" Ahsoka yelled from atop her jump, flipping over the large walker, cutting into its armor as a way of distraction. With its attention drawn away, Wraith shored himself up and flicked on the generator, and the satisfying beep that followed confirmed it was ready to fire. Aiming it towards another that was already preoccupied with its explosive destruction, he pulled the trigger, and the bright light screamed through the air until ripping through the walker's head. It stumbled and wined from the massive hit, and with the pilot vaporized, it collapsed in a loud heap, drawing cries of elation from some of the insurgents that were pinned down.

His natural sense kicked in, but he couldn't drop the gauss cannon fast enough to react to an armor piercing blaster bolt that ripped through his tough skin and incinerated his shoulder. Crying in pain, he grit his teeth as he rolled behind cover, turning to spot the chiss approaching with a longer barrel attached to her carbine. Firing in single shots that were _much_ louder than before, they pounded into his cover while he fumbled for his slug thrower, the pain in his arm almost making it useless.

Another AT-ST collapsed, this time courtesy of Ahsoka's acrobatic movements and her blades, but the most violent noise he heard was the energy discharge that resulted in the crash of two bodies against the dirt. Daring to peak over, he spotted a banged-up Inquisitor and ISB Agent struggling to rise to their feet, just as Trilla walked through the brush…her gloves covered in crimson, and her eyes livid.

For some reason, that drew the chiss' attention away from him, and after a full sprint, she grasped ahold of Trilla's hilt with her raw strength before she could end the Agent's life.

Without a second thought…the chiss had left him to rescue her comrade.

_Familiar._

"Are you alright?" Ahsoka popped into his vision, her eyes adopting concern, but also projecting the need for a quick answer.

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll walk it off. Go help her."

Trilla was _confused._

The alien's red eyes bore into her soul as her gloved hands remained clasped around Trilla's hilt, and the former Inquisitor could not push back against her overbearing motion, even with the assistance of her prosthetic arm. Her strength was unlike anything she had ever faced before, and for the first time she was beginning to worry that her blade would slice into her own arm.

"_Roncan'i ch'itt'suvrecah cat len!_" she proceeded to shout, to which not even Trilla could properly translate.

She didn't care. The anger within her had exploded, and Trilla grasped ahold of it to increase her strength and power output, pushing back.

"Trilla, no!" Ahsoka protested, holding off the other two from bothering her. "Don't give in!"

"_Gah…_shut up!" Trilla spat.

Ahsoka's brow arched as she deflected an attack from Jayne. "Katara!" she shouted. "Katara!"

Trilla's eyes widened with shock. In that moment, she felt the bond with her daughter return…and the terror she was currently feeding her.

_No…this…this isn't what I wanted…she's safe…she's safe._

Calming breaths followed, and in her clarity, the light granted her more strength than the dark ever could. With a harsh shove, she freed her hilt from the alien's grip, but before she could retaliate, Markov grasped ahold of her, whispering something in that same language, before firing both blasters Trilla's way. The third AT-ST was collapsing by now, and with reluctance, the alien accepted Markov's guidance as they dashed into the jungle…with Jayne pushing Ahsoka off her to follow in tow.

Trilla wanted to pursue, but her body's injuries took their toll, and she fell to her knees with heavy breaths. Dropping her hilt, it was only then that she noticed the blood that stained her gloves, and the shame that followed broke her down…until she realized that what was done was done…there was nothing to be done now.

"You were right," she huffed, just as she sensed Ahsoka coming up behind her. "I _am_ terrible at remaining calm."

Ahsoka snorted. "Honestly, I'm not sure anyone is really good at it."

Wiping her face and picking herself up, she regarded the togruta. "I think I'd like to go back to my ship now."

Ahsoka merely tipped her head. "I'll get you back as soon as I can."

With a slight nod, Trilla paced past her, but decided to give her a soft grip on her shoulder. "Thank you…for reminding me of what matters."

The togruta didn't seem sure how to react, but gave her a small nod, just as Trilla continued her walk…aimlessly and thoughtful.

* * *

"Where you off to now?" Wraith asked, just as Ahsoka pulled over a pack of supplies to restock her ship. "Off to be a recluse again?"

Ahsoka snorted in amusement. "No…I just need to get Trilla back, then…"

"Back to work," he answered for her, his arms crossed.

She nodded. "Back to work."

There were so many things he wanted to tell her…so many feelings he wanted to get off his chest, but none of them relinquished their weight on his tongue, fusing his mouth shut. He'd kill for another day with her, and he couldn't shake the fact that this felt like her leaving him all over again.

She paused, and then looked to him, seeming just as flushed. "Hey…you know…" she trailed off.

"What?" he asked, almost begging her to finish.

Her ice blue eyes studied him for a moment, and for the first time in years, he watched her stoic expression break. "Dammit," she mumbled under her breath and pulled him close, pressing her lips into his before he could react. He felt her somewhat begin to pull herself away, but then she went in for more…and it quickly felt like the first time all over again.

Pulling away, he was left breathless, and she giggled to herself. "I never liked working much anyway."

He smiled. "Is there more where that came from?"

All Ahsoka granted him was a wink, and then ascended up the ramp. "Plenty."

For the first time in 5 years, Wraith felt happiness rejuvenate his soul.

* * *

**13 BBY – **_**Praetorian**_

"Their forces were far more organized than I anticipated," Markov admitted, fighting off the winces that came with her injured body. "Despite the armor surprise, they adjusted quickly. We failed."

Thrawn kept his gaze on the viewport, not even regarding Markov's bowed head or Nerah, who merely watched with slight scorn beneath her expression. "Oh, on the contrary, this has proven most…_enlightening_."

Markov cocked her head. "Sir?"

The chiss turned with his hands clasped behind his back. "Not only have we proven Nerah to be effective at tearing through organized insurgent cells, but this confirms a far more burning question within the Empire. Someone in the galaxy is supporting acts of dissent throughout the Empire, I have no doubt about it now, especially with the emergence of this new weapon."

Nerah cleared her throat. "Powerful…break armor, easy."

"Yes…projectile weapons that have not been seen in the galaxy for thousands of years, and yet advanced to a point that they are effective against our nonadaptive technology," Thrawn mused. "Most interesting…but not nearly as interesting as the most prized discovery of all…"

They both waited, until Thrawn turned back to the viewport, watching over Onderon as it continued to turn.

"Ahsoka Tano."

* * *

**Oof…okay, so I know this one took a little longer to come out that what you guys have been accustomed to, but I've got a couple excuses. I hit some serious writer's fatigue about 500 words into this, and actually spent a couple days not even touching this thing, which I haven't done since December (yikes). Also, I've been a little more active in the roleplaying community, so that took up some of my writing time, but I feel myself fading back to this again. Truth was, I needed a break!**

** I've got a things to go over, so hang tight, if you're willing.**

** I've received a few PMs and reviews asking me if this story is a follow up or AU to DFM23's **_**Rise of the Wraith**_**, and I'm here to tell you that my story is ABSOLUTELY AU. I would never presume to tell his story, so ANYTHING still goes for his story. This doesn't give anyone plot armor, make any characters safe, nothing. This is a tribute/spinoff version of Wraith that fits into the Eons Universe and is NOT AT ALL CONNECTED TO HIS STORY. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused.**

** Thanks for stickin' with me, and I'll see you guys soon! Stay safe.**


	40. Say You Won't Let Go

**Say You Won't Let Go**

"If I break…if I fall…will you still run to me when I call?"

**13 BBY – **_**Fury**_

Katara watched the ball float above her with varying interest, looking unsure as to what was happening before her. It took a long time for Xur to realize that she would never reach for it, as her motor skills were still developing from the ground up. Still, he found his own entertainment in levitating it for her while he sat in the pilot's chair. He found her eyes wandering around the cockpit to stare at the various lights and knobs, and eventually he let the ball drop as his own exhaustion began to take over.

He never imagined caring for a child could be so taxing, and it had only been a few days.

Those few days in solitude, however, had proven to show him things he would've never discovered if Trilla had never left with Ahsoka. Being away had shown him the value of her presence, as well as how much the mother of his child meant to him. They'd been together for over a year, and still, not once had the question ever come up to him.

Did he want that to be for the rest of his life?

The zabrak held living proof in his arms that that answer was yes, and yet he still hesitated. Was this something that Trilla wanted? Would she even agree? Was Katara all she wanted?

All of those questions were trivial, and he knew it. The only way to find out was to ask…but zabrak proposals weren't the same as they were for humans. Depending on the culture, sometimes the woman did the ask…but most of the time it wasn't really a _question_, more of a _you're mine now_ kind of thing. While that might be good roleplay for later, that wasn't how he wanted this to go. In fact, he had no idea how he wanted this to go…so he did the next best thing.

"Do you love Mommy?" he asked Katara, who was busy looking around. She only regarded him for a moment, before laughing somewhat, to which he smiled. "Yeah, of course you do. What do you think would make Mommy happy?"

Katara looked directly back at him with her emerald eyeballs, and he caught her meaning almost immediately. "Ah, of course! How did I miss that?"

"Who are you speaking to?" Rava asked, plugged into the command port. "The infant is mentally incapable of understanding you at her current age."

Xur scoffed. "That's not the point, Rava."

"And what are you lusting about now? I believe the last thing Trilla needs right now is another traumatic surprise."

"It's not traumatic…it's…a commitment," Xur stammered, then wondering why he was debating with her in the first place.

"A commitment…you refer to marriage, I suppose?" Rava inferred.

Xur's eyes narrowed. "How did you—"

"You've taken far too long to get to this point, according to my research and calculations. Usually marriage is proposed _before_ a couple conceives a child."

The zabrak scoffed, swaying slightly in his chair to rock Katara. "Well, we're not average people."

"An admittedly true statement," Rava conceded. "Very well. If you once again require my services…I can offer them to you."

Xur smiled. "Thanks Rava."

Her optic blinked for a moment, almost as if a data dump had come in, and she rotated her head. "But it appears you may be on your own for this endeavor."

He could sense it…Trilla had returned from her mission.

_Finally_.

"You wanna go see Mommy?" Xur asked Katara, whose own eyes flashed awake in recognition. "Let's go see her."

Walking across the ship with his daughter in his arms, he tapped the door control and let it quickly slide open, and Trilla was approaching at the base. Almost immediately upon seeing her, his heart leapt and gleamed, and the happiness he felt just seeing her again was almost indescribable.

Xur picked up Katara's hand and waved it for her. "Say hi."

Trilla's smile blossomed across her face as she approached, helmet in one hand as she waved the other in return. "Hi baby girl! Mommy missed you very much," she said, approaching and pulling Xur in for a hefty kiss that he returned with equal fervor. Once she pulled away, she flipped up her helmet. "Can we trade?

"Of course," Xur smirked, happily willing to relinquish himself of caretaking duties for now. When Trilla took Katara back into her arms…it was only then that Xur noticed the cut on her right cheek. Reaching out, he slid his thumb across it. "What's this?"

"It's nothing," she shook him off with a reassuring smile, although one that did not hide her obvious exhaustion. "Just…I'll get into details later. I think Katara needs to feed."

He accepted her standpoint for now…knowing what it was like to be in her shoes. Something was weighing down upon her as well, and he could only assume it was something she had experienced on Onderon. She looked utterly spent, and he could see it in her fading eyelids, not to mention the way she carried herself…much more slouched and less proper.

"Want me to get you a drink?" he offered, just as she began to make her way onto the _Fury_, letting her cape drop behind her after the door shut.

"Oh, yes please," she sighed gratefully. "Thank you, darling."

* * *

Trilla reluctantly set her sleeping daughter back into her capsule, planting a sweet and soft kiss on her forehead. Holding her again had been part of the desperate rejuvenation she needed from the taxing events of Onderon, and she was happy to say that Katara looked as great as she had hoped, which meant Xur had been able to adjust to his responsibility. She smiled to herself at his completion of her small test, as well as her reaffirmation that she had chosen the correct partner to do this with.

"Goodnight, my darling little girl," Trilla half-sang, and then shut the capsule, leaving Katara to her dreams. Almost immediately she felt a hefty sigh emerge from her mouth, and watching her daughter drift off to sleep made her want to follow suit…but her desire to converse with Xur was far greater than her current exhaustion.

The sting of her slight wound was keeping her awake anyhow.

Sluggishly pacing into the central area of the _Fury_, Trilla found Xur sitting in their couch setup beside the bar and kitchen, scrolling through a datapad with two drinks already set up on the central table. Smiling once he saw her emerge, Xur began to rise, but the wave of her hand kept him planted, and she settled in beside him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He took the hint, wrapping her in his grip as she snuggled into him, long relinquished of her gloves and armor pieces.

"I missed you," she mumbled, letting the relaxation set in throughout her tired body.

Xur kissed the top of her head. "I missed you too."

* * *

"It seems our stunt at the Fortress has opened some eyes," Trilla revealed, sitting close beside Xur as she nursed the glass in her hand. "A lot of those men on Onderon were inspired by what we did…" she then scoffed. "Even Saw was willing to thank me…shake my hand."

"That's good hun," Xur smiled, her flesh hand clasped in his as he took another sip. "That means people are beginning to trust you."

Trilla slightly grumbled to herself. "I still don't particularly like him very much…but he's not as incredibly annoying as Tano can be."

Xur scoffed. "Well, the fact that both of you got out of that alive tells me something must've gone right."

She didn't respond immediately, her eyes pacing away towards the holotable in the center of the room as she took a hefty drink from her glass. Trilla's lips shuttered for a moment before she finally admitted, "She's not terrible…and not exactly the horned bitch I thought she was."

Xur held his tongue, letting her speak.

"Her righteous attitude is exhausting, however. Hence why I feel the need to drink so heavily at this moment," she winked his way, which was usually the first sign of her intoxication.

"Have at it," he granted. "Just…maybe no throwing up…I'd still like to…" he trailed off, unsure as how to put it, but he knew she'd pick it out anyway.

Trilla adopted another one of her devious smirks, before creeping closer and pressing her lips against his, sharing a kiss he could only imagine since she had left the _Fury_. He'd forgotten how good she was…actually more how good _they_ were at linking together. Once they pulled away, and the delicious taste of her faded, she took his hand again and reclaimed her spot.

"No reason to worry…I will be sure to maintain enough of my focus for us to _properly_ welcome each other once again," she flashed him a knowing smile, and then proceeded to take another drink.

Xur found himself pausing…that same question he asked himself earlier coming back now that Trilla had returned. He felt the need to probe her for her own mindset…and if the idea had ever even crossed her mind. There was no denial that they loved each other, but this was the final step…the absolute end of the road. For some reason that terrified him, but after every ailment he had felt with her not around, it made more sense than ever.

He had to ask…but in the right way.

"You know I love you…right?" he asked, to which she only gave him narrowed eyes.

"Of course…and I love you too."

_You need to do better than that._

But he couldn't go too far if he wanted to keep it a surprise. Trilla could smell a secret like a hound sic to meat, and she had known him plenty long enough to know when he was hiding something…in fact she picked him apart only a moment ago…but he _also_ knew how to slip things past her. Mainly that was via conversational distractions, or harder topics that made her think deep enough not to notice, as well as painting a prerequisite picture she believed she understood and then go the other way. He'd been able to stand next to her for six months without her ever knowing it…with _help_ of course, but he himself was cunning enough to pull it off.

"Do you have any idea where you're from?" Xur asked, and she cocked her head in wonder. "Planet, city?"

She bit the line without a second thought. "Hmmm…I've speculated some places," she admitted. "But, since I'm human…it's a tad more difficult than it might be for you," she smirked, before diving back in. "I believe I am most likely originated from the Core Worlds or the Colonies. My manner of speech is certainly from there."

"Yeah, nothing like us Mid-Outer Rim barbarians," he joked, to which she shrugged.

"No, we're much more proper than you lot," her thumb rubbed the back of his hand as she smiled.

"It's very sexy," he admitted.

Trilla couldn't even hide her blush this time. "Anyhow, I have a few planets I've considered, among those Brentaal, Alsakan, perhaps even Balmorra."

Of those planets, Xur had only been to Balmorra, and Trilla didn't exactly strike him as a Balmorran…but since her accent was mostly gained from spending time on Coruscant most of her life, anything was possible.

"In all honesty…I'm not sure it matters," she admitted. "They're all so deep in Imperial territory anyhow."

It didn't. It wouldn't change how he felt about her in the slightest, but it was necessary to plant the thought and lead to the next. "If you had a planet…_any_ planet you would like to settle down in, what would it be?" The look she gave him asked for parameters, and he tipped his head. "Name a climate or biome."

She looked away, smiling to herself slightly. "A little wet, but green…overcast every now and then…somewhat like Zeffo, believe it or not. I'd love to have days to listen to the rain against the ceiling…and take Katara out front and wrap her shivering body in my grip…perhaps a blanket to keep her warm. I'd like to tell her stories about her persistent father who persevered…and never gave up on her mother, and how she always knew deep down that she loved him…even if she had convinced herself that she did not," her eyes looked upon Xur with pride, and he only listened, letting her continue. "I'd like to walk up to the cliffs and feel the wind kiss my skin as I watched over the landscape," she then shifted, leaning in until her head lay atop his chest, and he took the hint to embrace her. "I'd like to have the man I love right beside me…always…and while I know he may have his duties, and I mine, I'd want to sleep peacefully every night knowing he is still safe, and that when we return, our family will be able to return to that place…perhaps have a warm meal, ask my daughter how her day was. I'd like to have space to teach her all that I know, to show her how to be strong, how to speak…room to grow."

Trilla looked up, instilling her gaze upon his as she caressed his face. "I'd like you to be there when I need you…just as you always are, and always have been. I'd like to return the favor, to be your light…your guide…your _everything_."

_I'd like you to ask me to marry you._

Xur brushed her hair aside and kissed her forehead, receiving the answer he had searched for. "It'll happen…I promise."

Her gaze softened. "Coming from you…somehow I believe it."

"Somehow?" Xur mocked.

Trilla rolled her eyes, and then set aside her drink, clambering atop him forcefully. "Shut up," she demanded, and then lurched forward for a passionate kiss, and Xur felt that incredible, unfading ecstasy return to him.

"That's one way to shut me up," he teased, and she only giggled, letting the motions do the talking from that point forward.

* * *

_You can't have her…_

_ What do you want from me?!_

Trilla's eyes flashed open as she awoke in the middle of the night, her vision immediately focused clear after the memory faded back into nothing. Shaking it off and closing her eyes, she quickly discovered she wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon. Succumbing to her fate, she quietly dressed herself in sparse clothing, being sure not to wake up Xur, and then slipped out of the room to pace the ship. After what they had just done…it would take a lot to wake up her zabrak boyfriend.

This was not the first time Cere's last moments replayed in her dreams.

It was a healing wound, her old master's passing, but not _healed_ quite yet. Delving into her fate meant delving into their respective journeys, sufferings and conflicts, all memories she had tried to bury as deep as she could. They always traced back to Kamparas…to the Fortress, to the Second Sister, to Bracca, to Zeffo, to Zakuul, to Ordo Eris, to Kashyyyk, to Ziost…and back to that moment.

So much pain…so much hatred…so much suffering.

_I am so…so very sorry._

Tears rolled down Trilla's face as she swallowed her hefty gulp of water, leaning over the bar as she began to snivel and sob. It was as if none of it had ever meant anything, as on Onderon she had merely fallen right back into her old habits, tapping into her hatred without even a second thought.

Cere, Effa, Kaidan, Blaze, Mars, Brutis…did they all die just for her to become her own worst nightmare again?

Trilla had no answer…because deep down she knew there was no hiding from herself, and she had become naturally spiteful…devious…

_Broken._

Was she taking advantage of Xur without even knowing it? She never even considered to tell him the reality of what she had experienced, straight out of fear that he'd be disappointed in her for giving in once again. Instead she'd returned, held her daughter, batted her eyelashes at him, and then made love in a manner that could easily hide all the dark realities of her soul.

She knew it. She was an evil person…and she always would be.

Cries could be heard from Katara's room.

Snapping her out of her self-pity, Trilla did her best to wipe her eyes clean and slightly jog to her daughter's room, and after shutting the door to try and conceal the noise, she opened the capsule. Katara wasn't quite wailing, but her pouts were heartbreaking and saddening in the eyes of her mother, and Trilla did not hesitate to corral her into her arms.

"_Shhh_," she hushed. "Mommy's here…mommy's here," she soothed, but couldn't even conceal her own sniffle. "I'm always here."

Katara kept crying, and only then did Trilla confirm that her connection to her daughter was not only strong…but somewhat unnaturally so. Emotions were transferred instantly as Trilla felt them, and she knew that the only way to get her daughter to cease her crying, was to have herself come to terms her own.

With a calming breath, she took a seat on the rocker and wiped Katara's tears away. "Don't cry, sweetheart," she eased. "Your mother has just…done many things she will have to tell you about one day…and she isn't sure she will have the strength to. You're so pure…so unblemished, but I am far from that…_so_ very far from that."

Katara finally opened her eyes, looking up to Trilla as she caressed her face. "But I want you to know that whatever you may think of me when you learn the truth…that I will never stop loving you. If I had to do it all again, just to have you with me…here…in my arms, I would do it without hesitation.

"You mommy loves you…she loves you so very much."

Her daughter drifted off to sleep again, and Trilla could not find the strength to leave her. Instead, she laid back, humming various tunes to herself…thinking.

Thinking about the future.

* * *

**13 BBY – Tranbir IX**

Xur was never one to suffer from anxiety…that was Trilla's forte…but for some reason, ever since he had woken up, his heart had not stopped pounding. Even his incredibly sore body was an afterthought, product of last night, his mind fully focused on the question he planned to ask today.

Waking up alone was normal, as she was always the early riser, but finding her passed out in Katara's room was not what he expected. They were both asleep in the most absolute form, and he had opted to leave them be until Katara's crying woke Trilla regardless. In that time though, he had managed to divulge his plan to Rava and have it all set.

The place he had in mind wasn't exactly romantic…but it had been important to them, as it was the first place he had ever realized how much she was worth to him.

And it was the place in which he would actualize it.

With their helmets slid over as they descended the loading ramp of the _Fury_, they entered the somewhat unpleasant heat as well as scarred surface of Tranbir IX. The trenches that had been dug out from the initial battle still cut into the land, even after five years of nothing but silence. To their right was that same Providence-class dreadnaught that had crashed upon its surface, and immediately he began to direct Trilla its way.

"I hope this is quick," Trilla remarked, unawares as to what was happening. "My mother instincts are telling me Katara will need to feed soon."

"Oh, don't worry," Xur assured her. "This shouldn't take long."

Trilla looked up, her violet optic slit panned towards the rusting wreck. "Are we searching for some sort of Separatist trinket?"

The zabrak shrugged. "I think so. That's all Rava told me."

"So this is her idea? Interesting. I was under the impression Reyna offered you assignments directly."

"She does…"

"But this one was beneath her?"

_Dammit…why are you so fucking smart?_

He already knew what she was going to say next, asking why they were being restricted to retrieval missions with their talents, so he switched it up.

"There's something for us here," Xur revealed. "Only us."

Trilla's scoff came out as a jumbled muff of air through her helmet vocabulator. "Is it a bomb?"

"No, it's not a bomb."

"So you _do_ know what it is?"

He hesitated. "Kind of."

She grasped his upper arm, pulling him to face her. "Why are you lying to me?"

Of all days…she picked _today_ to be paranoid, and even with her mask on he could tell she was becoming upset with him for his secrecy.

He just needed to win her over for the next few minutes.

"Do you trust me or not?" he asked, and she seemed to pause, regarding him for a moment…until her stance finally broke.

"Xur…what's going on?" she asked in a soft tone, more understanding than confrontational. "I don't like this."

"You will," he promised, taking her hand. "But _only_ if you trust me."

There was slight hesitation, but in the end she took his hand. "Alright."

He smiled behind his helmet. "Come on," he pulled at her hand. "Follow me."

Leading her into the wreck, he felt her recognition resonate back to him, and her gaze scanned the familiar area with intrigue. It looked almost no different from five years ago, Xur noticed, which made it easy for them to follow the same path they had taken through the rusting metal and silent halls.

"I remember this place…" she noted. "I was much younger then…much different."

"Both of us were," he admitted. "This is the place where I realized something…something bigger than just my commitment to the Jedi, or my responsibility as a soldier and a leader."

They came up to that same overlook, and with a combined jump, they landed quietly together, as Xur felt it coming to a head. "This is it."

Trilla relinquished her hold on his hand, searching the area. "I remember when your fist clashed into that man's skull here," she recounted, taking a knee as she looked around. "Saving me from his grip collapsing my neck…killing me," she felt her mind fade back to that moment. "I could've died here…but you stopped that…you saved me."

"Trilla…"

When she turned, he was standing there, holding some kind of decorative ribbon in his hand, and through her HUD she struggled to contemplate what was occurring. Rising to her feet, she stepped forward. "What's this?"

She watched him stammer for a moment, but eventually his confidence returned. "I wasn't really sure how to do this, but zabrak proposals work differently…"

Trilla felt her mouth gape open as she took a few steps back, stunned. Her gloved hands fell over the area where her mouth would be, and she noticed his smile grow as his anticipation shook his own body.

"This is a…uh…betrothal necklace," he explained. "Usually I would put it on you and drag you around…but…I want you to do it."

She waited, holding back the trill of elation her throat was ready to emit. This was so _him_…the slight unease…trying to find a way to joke about the situation, but this time he had come up empty.

Getting ahold of herself, hard as it was, she accepted the ribbon, but did not take it out of his grip…waiting…hinting.

"Trilla…I…I want you to marry me."

She couldn't help herself…just as always…

She would make him work for it.

Reaching forward, she felt his emotions tip to confusion as she reached for his helmet, unclipping the seals and pulling it from his head. Revealing his slightly troubled expression, his fleeting smile as he looked from her to the necklace he held in his hands. Unhinging her own helmet, she tossed it aside and pulled her longer hair from her face, looking upon him with a confident smile.

Accepting the necklace, she watched his expression turn to happiness as she tied it around her neck.

Then she jumped into his arms and kissed him…leaving no doubt in his mind what her answer would be.

"Yes," she breathed; her expression turned to longingness. "By the Force…_yes_."

They both smiled, sharing the most passionate kiss they had ever shared, and already they knew their future would be forever entwined…as it was always meant to be.

"I love you, Trilla _Eon_," Xur declared.

"And I love you," she smiled. "With _all_ my heart."


	41. Taken

**Taken**

"There is nothing quite as powerful…or damaging…as a mother's love."

**12 BBY – **_**Fury**_

"Mama," Katara smiled from her capsule as it floated beside Trilla's workbench, and her mother smiled back as she continued to toy with the circuitry of her helmet's vocabulator.

"Yes, _mama_," she giggled, praising her daughter for correct speech, and then returning her focus to her work. It had been almost a year she'd been at this, through that time she was either too busy to find the time, or just gave up. This recent fervor came from her desire to carry Katara around in a more incognito sense, but she didn't want to scare her with her rather menacing voice that it projected.

Katara tried to climb atop the table, but Trilla groaned, blocking her path. "Katara, no. Mommy needs you to stay there."

She pouted as she remained, and by then Trilla couldn't pull her eyes away. "Oh, come here," she cooed, picking her up and holding her in her grip. "Mommy just doesn't want you to get hurt."

The toddler snuggled into her, and while Trilla could feel slight annoyance at the prospect of not getting any work done, she couldn't resist holding her close. "Mama," Katara said again, and Trilla felt her heart melt.

"Mommy loves you," she kissed her forehead. "She would do anything for you…_anything_ to keep you safe."

_Anything._

"Anything," her own voice repeated…but not from her mouth…not projected via _her_ lungs. It was elsewhere, almost infinite…eternal.

Sinister.

Trilla looked up, and just behind the capsule stood the spectre of the Second Sister, her smirk wide and eyes malevolent. Instinctually, she held Katara tightly, pulling her away…and bared her teeth. "You're dead."

"I was," the Second Sister confirmed, stepping forward. "Not _anymore_…not with her. With that little girl…I will _always_ be with you," her sadistic giggles emerged, slowly becoming full blown laughs. "Deny me all you want…I will _always_ be a part of you."

She wanted to lash out…kill her again just as she had on Katarr, but she knew better. With deep breaths of calm, she clung to Katara and closed her eyes. "You're not real…you're just a figment of my imagination."

Trilla felt her anger dissipate, giving way to her more calming thoughts…and when she opened her eyes again, the Second Sister was gone. Hushing her daughter, she smiled.

Katara was suddenly ripped from her arms by an unseen Force, and Trilla felt herself blown over and pinned to the wall of the _Fury_. Stuck, she felt her own terror set in, and straight ahead she saw the Second Sister hold her screaming daughter in her arms. Trying to fight, nothing budged. She was trapped…_helpless_.

"Oh, don't cry baby girl," the Second Sister cooed. "I'm your mommy too," she sneered, and soon Katara's crying did stop, but when she opened her eyes…the beautiful green had become yellow.

Trilla screamed in vain, the Force rippling around her as the _Fury_ collapsed, crumpling from her own attack, and enveloping both the Second Sister and Katara in her destruction…

* * *

Her hellish scream as she awoke from her nightmare shook her bed as she panted and heaved in terror, tears flowing from her eyes as the trauma set itself in, and only in that moment did she realize it was merely a falsehood. No one was beside her to be awoken, only the cold, empty and vacant sheets that were becoming a more prominent reality than she wished…but it _was_ a reality. She knew the purpose…she knew what her husband was doing, and its importance, but Trilla was selfish in a sense. Part of her didn't care…she expected her husband to be at her side when she wished, or at least speak to her, keep her updated on how he was. Xur was good about it, however, and didn't give her much reason to be cross with him.

Besides, Trilla fancied her alone time as well.

Pushing the sheets aside, Trilla clothed herself in her black robing, similar to what she once wore as a Jedi, but she felt it was more her current personality. She still had her suit, and the upgrades and adjustments she had made were nice, but it was hefty, and not exactly casual wear. Katara liked to cling to her robing…sometimes leave behind bodily fluids in her wake…but Trilla had quickly learned the reality of having a child, and always kept it cleaned and pressed.

With a wave of her hand, her door opened, and she was immediately greeted to the android body of Rava tending to parts of the ship, its sleek design almost appearing human, as only the grays and blacks gave it away. She even wore armor and clothing, making her seem as alive as ever.

"Good morning, Rava," Trilla greeted as she passed by, heading to the bar to fetch herself some caf.

Rava turned back for a moment, but then refocused on her datapad. "What was that scream about?"

Trilla suppressed a snort, activating the caf machine and letting it warm up. "Another bad dream."

"Ah, so nothing new," Rava noted, moving to the next section of the ship.

_For the most part._

The Second Sister had come back into her dreams before, but Trilla had become so used to her face by now that she had begun to dismiss it. This one…this one was different. It felt more real, almost like when she was suffering from mild schizophrenia when she was the Emperor's Wrath.

Still, it was merely a piece of her imagination. The best way to silence it, was to ignore it.

Once her caf was dispensed, Trilla took a sip and paced to her tinkering and work bench area, her helmet already sprawled out in pieces as she continued to adjust and toy with it. Taking her position and getting straight to work, she knew any time in which her daughter was asleep was precious for her productivity. So far, she'd managed to adjust the hues from purple to gold to match her blade, and most of her suit had been made entirely black by now. It was not great for heat, but it was perfect for almost every other climate or biome she had to deal with.

Despite what her suit used to represent, she felt no shame from it.

She found herself fixing her hair while she worked much more than usual, and she merely reminded herself it had been some time since she had last cut it. She'd always done it herself or had a droid assist her, and now that Rava had a full body, she could help her if she wanted…but Trilla had become less and less worried about it as it grew, and it had almost reached the point where she would leave it until it passed her shoulders. It was how she had it when she was a Jedi, and the adjustment felt proper with her new identity.

Short hair was never her preference anyway.

Predictably, after about twenty minutes, Katara began to cry from her room.

"_Fuck me_," she grumbled…which was a phrase that was truer about her current desires than at face value…and set down her tools, heading over to her daughter's room.

Opening the capsule, Trilla forced a motherly smile as she lifted Katara out and into her arms, carrying her away. "Mommy's here…_oh_ don't cry baby."

Katara's fit ended quickly, and once she laid eyes on her mother, she smiled. "Mama."

Trilla giggled as she walked out. "_Yes…_mama…_good_ girl."

Then she sneezed, and Trilla stopped in her tracks as disgust befell her…but she held back her reaction.

"Oops," Katara apologized, and Trilla couldn't help but smile, pulling the wipes from her belt that she already had prepared. "Sorry mama."

"It's alright sweetheart," she eased, wiping off her face. "Let's get you cleaned up."

_Yes…just as always._

Yet another one of _those_ days.

* * *

**12 BBY – Zeffo **

Peace could be found in the eye of the storm, the central heart in which the chaos that raged remained inert. Within that heart was a place in which those seeking refuge could take shelter, perhaps even begin a new life in peace. It was the simpler path…but it was also the most obvious…the easiest to find.

Within the storm, within the chaos…was where the survivors hid.

Xur's TIE Interceptor hardly flinched against the hurricane winds, built to combat the likes of solar winds and hyperspace travel in the testy vacuum of space, and even he was unfazed by it. His eyes remained forward, occasionally flickering towards the incoming tracking signal before coming forward again, his gloved hands held tight around the yoke. Compensating for the wind, he pulled to starboard just to adjust to a straight line, and finally the tracking signal zeroed in.

"Alright Reyna…let's hope you didn't drop me out here for nothing," Xur mumbled to himself through his helmet. Beginning the landing cycle, it was a rough and unsettling set-down, but a successful one, nonetheless. Activating the mag-clamps, his ship anchored itself to the ground, and just then he could make out a building just in front, not far from where he landed.

Securing the inside of his ship, he popped the hatch, and was immediately blown back by the hurricane winds. Grunting with effort, he conjured and maintained a protective bubble around himself via the Force, and it allowed him to leap out of the fighter and onto land. Keeping his protection with outstretched hands, Xur followed the ping on his wrist to the building, and once he reached the door, he relinquished the bubble. Nearly blown off his feet, he yelped as he latched onto the door's sturdy handle but dug in as he forced it open and shut it closed with his enhanced strength.

With the wind quelled to a mere rumbling of the building and a constant whistle, Xur took calming breaths as he observed his surroundings. This was a home, no doubt, perhaps one that was more functional before the hurricane hit, as its power was shoddy at best. Various appliances seemed unused and broken, while tables and chairs were dusted and worn, and immediately he began to think this was all for nothing.

No…there was something here…he could feel it.

His mistake was wrapping one hand around his hilt.

A tall assailant appeared from thin air, and the ignition of a green blade was all Xur had to warn him of his impending death. Orange clashed with green as he defended himself, exchanging multiple parries before he was pushed up against a sink.

"Woah, woah! Not here to fight!" Xur protested, and finally got a solid look on the man. Taller than him by a few inches, his beard concealed much of his features along with his longer hair…but that was about all Xur could make out before he was forced to defend himself again.

Ducking under a slash, the zabrak blew him over with a powerful force push, and his assailant rolled back and tossed a knife his way, slipping through his plates but deflecting off the internal mesh.

Xur came here to talk…now he just wanted to whoop his ass.

With a growl, he ignited both blades and went on the attack, slashing with both in an overwhelming manner as they clashed into the green, throwing out sparks of orange and yellow that left black pock marks on the flooring. His assailant grunted to hold him back, and the ripple in the Force that followed loosened his grip, knocking him off balance as his hilt skidded across the floor. Despite winning the upper hand, Xur was plowed atop a table, throwing up dust and whatever objects that rested atop it, forcing the zabrak to go hand to hand as his hilts fell from his grip.

Bashing his head against the human's nose, Xur kicked him off and ripped off his own helmet, tossing it aside and landing a hard punch that downed his opponent, and with a quick gesture, his orange blade was ignited and pointed downwards.

Wiping his nose of blood, the human grunted. "Not bad."

Xur shrugged, keeping his eyes fixed as his breaths eased. "We done here?"

He looked down at his hand, noting the crimson as he spat aside, and then nodded. "We're done…never thought I'd actually pick a fight with Xur Eon."

"As I said, not what I came for," Xur reiterated, keeping his blade pointed. "I'm looking for a Jedi. Daniel Velken."

The man nodded. "You just punched him."

Xur smirked, lowering his blade. "Thought so. You know who I am?"

Daniel snorted. "You gotta be a braindead hssiss to not know who you are. I heard what you did on Nur…to the Empire. I'm impressed. Your girlfriend almost killed me a few times."

"You're well-informed," Xur remarked, and then offered a hand. "Come on Velken. Let's have a drink and talk business."

* * *

**12 BBY – **_**Fury**_

Katara imitated an exploding sound as she pounded her ball into the floor of the _Fury_, and then proceeded to giggle hysterically as she continued to do so. Trilla didn't find the fiftieth time as amusing as the first but flashed her a smile as she continued to work from her workbench. Finishing the last circuit placement, she rewired the interface and then slipped the internal cover back over the vocabulator, letting the satisfying _snap_ set in.

"Alright…ready to see if mommy did this right?" she asked Katara, pulling her hair back and preparing to slide it over her head.

Katara looked up in glee. "Mama!"

Trilla giggled as she slid it over her head, letting the HUD reboot and interface as it sealed. "_Alright_…oh…_shit_," she cursed as her voice only came out at an even _lower_ pitch.

Her daughter suddenly shrieked in terror at the sound of it, and began to cry, only making Trilla groan as she unsealed and relinquished the burden from her face. "Katara…" her frustration leaked out, but quickly she back tracked and shaped up her tone, reaching to pull her into her grasp. "Oh…I'm sorry, baby," she cooed, holding her close, and Katara snuggled into her. "Please don't cry."

As her wails continued, Trilla bounced her up and down and hushed her, only to pause in a sudden jerk as her eyes locked on the spectre of the Second Sister…watching from across the ship. Her smirk grew, and Trilla felt déjà vu set in as her dream was reenacted, and a distinct terror ravaged her psyche as she held Katara tightly.

"You can't protect her from _yourself_," the Second Sister sneered, stepping forward as Trilla pulled her away, baring her teeth. "She will always be afraid of you."

"What do you know?!" Trilla growled over Katara's cries. "You're just an animal with no sense of will or morality. You don't know what it means to _fight_."

The Second Sister chuckled. "Yet you do?"

Trilla corralled Katara's head into her grip, her eyes never leaving the image of herself. "You shall see in time."

A confident smirk was all she received. "I'll take those odds."

"Mama?"

Trilla's vision returned, although Katara was now back on the floor, holding her ball as she looked up…Trilla's helmet still in pieces. Clearing her throat, she ran her fingers through her hair and tried to settle back in, shaking off the vision, only to hear Rava's servos approaching.

"Ra-ra!" Katara pointed, smiling, and Rava bent her legs to be on her level.

"Who's your favorite lady on this ship?" she asked, her feminine alloy face displaying a friendly expression.

Katara looked back and forth as Trilla smiled, turning in her chair. Her red finger eventually fell towards her mother. "Mama!"

"Oh, you little snot," Rava grumbled, rising back to her full height as Katara only giggled at her comment. "I'll teach you one day."

"Not likely," Trilla mused, regarding Rava. "What is it?"

Rava leaned up against the frame, crossing her arms. "Shipment time."

Trilla grumbled. "Does it look to you like Katara is ready to sleep?" she asked, directing Rava's eyes towards the toddler banging the ball on the floor, laughing to herself.

"We'll do the thing," Rava shrugged.

"We are _not_ doing the thing," Trilla pointed in warning.

Rava cocked her head, leaning forward. "Logistics, Suduri."

"Oh, fuck off with that!"

"Uh oh…" Katara gasped, covering her mouth. "Mama say poo-poo word."

Rava nodded. "That's right, Katara, your mother _did_ say a poo-poo word."

Trilla growled in annoyance, even if she _did_ wish the word hadn't slipped her tongue. "Don't. Do that."

The android's gaze fell to the floor for a moment, taking a needless sigh. "Of course…apologies for pointing out your foul mouth in front of your child."

"_Rava_," Trilla held firm. "We're waiting."

Tension rose for a moment as their stares continued to berate each other, and Katara's slamming ended once she too sensed the rising animosity. Trilla never appreciated Rava's continuous priority perversion, especially when she put their supply runs for the Imperium ahead of the wellbeing of her daughter. Besides the fact that those runs were incredibly wasteful for a woman of her talents, they were risky and cumbersome, not to mention the fact that they never had any backup.

Still…the job gave her time with her daughter, and of all the things she _could_ be doing, it was the best option on that front. Boredom was perhaps her worst enemy, but she made do anyhow, even if it meant being away from her husband more often.

As long as he wasn't working with that blasted togruta.

Rava lost their stare down, just as always, and huffed. "As you wish…Captain."

"Those supplies aren't going anywhere," Trilla eased. "Take a bloody day off. Force knows you need it."

"I'm a virtual intelligence android, Suduri," Rava rolled her eyes. "I don't tire."

"Well _I_ do, and I tire of this circular conversation," Trilla grumbled. "That will be all, Rava."

Rava shook her head in annoyance, but instead turned to pick up Katara with her ball in her grip. "If that's the case, then you're coming with me, little one. I'm sure your mother _tires_ of your constant antics."

"Ra-ra!" Katara smiled with glee in her arms.

Trilla met Rava's look for approval, and she merely sighed. "Whatever."

As Rava stepped away, taking Katara away for entertainment, Trilla rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe the misery from her own expression.

She needed a drink.

* * *

**12 BBY – Zeffo**

"How'd you find me?"

Daniel's question almost deflected off Xur's skull as he took another drink, his mind somewhat outwards as the building continued to rumble from the surrounding storm. He sniffed, noticing his bottle was nearly empty as he lifted it for a look.

"I've got friends in high places," was all he gave him.

"So I've heard," Velken leaned forward. He was a curious individual, to say the least. Unnaturally tall for a human, Xur was rarely intimidated by height disadvantage, but Daniel had an odd aura to him that spoke much with few words. It was truly unlike anything he had ever experienced, and his cloaking ability only added to the intrigue.

"What are you doing here?" Xur asked, somewhat bewildered. "You seem to know that the Empire is in a little bit of a funk. Why hide out?"

Daniel took his drink and then shook his head, his hair ruffling as he did so. "Not hiding. Looking."

"Looking," Xur echoed. "Looking for what? All that's here are dead Zeffo sages and Imperial outposts. Shit, my uh…_girlfriend_, as you put it, can attest to that, and she tore this damn place to pieces. Aside from that there's nothing out here except for the…" the zabrak trailed off, and then blinked, thinking it over one last time.

Daniel tipped his bottle. "Except for the…go on, finish."

Xur huffed into a slight smile once the idea registered. "You're looking for the star map."

He nodded. "Yes sir."

"You think it exists?" the zabrak asked, and Daniel only smirked, rising to his feet and flicking his head.

"Come on, I'll show you."

Xur was a little wary of Daniel still, but from what Vorchenko had lead on, there was no need to be distrustful. Velken had just as much reason to hate the Empire as he, mostly surrounding the people that he loved and what they had done to them…a very similar situation to his own. Eon himself had been aware of some of Daniel's antics and actions during the Clone Wars, and while he wasn't the front line general Xur was, his own contributions to recon and intel were incredible, and deserved recognition.

Those were skills he desperately needed at the moment. Losing Mars was a serious blow in that department, and while Trilla was exceptional at anything that involved tracking, she found reconnaissance boring and unfulfilling, and he didn't blame her. That didn't mean she didn't find it useful; she just had no intention of carrying it out _herself_.

Remembering her hit him harder than he was ready for. Being away from her this long hadn't been easy, and part of him was begging to see her face again, but now that he had found Velken, he had to keep his head straight and in the moment.

She was probably upset with him anyway.

Velken lead him into the building's basement shelter, and with a flick of a switch, a dim light illuminated his workspace. It was an array of tables spread out with either spare parts, datapads, and a large, paper map on the central table. The place was a little run down, but with the hurricane and such, he imagined this was the perfect place to hide out.

"How long have you been here?" Xur asked, probing the area while Daniel fell behind the table, manning the map.

"Few months," he answered. "It's been tough trying to avoid all the imp patrols around here, but they never venture inside the hurricane. Even so, it's made me result to analog for the most part, as the winds have electromagnetic properties that fry advanced equipment. I've made some progress, but I'm missing a few pieces."

The zabrak took a peek, noting the various lines and triangulations he'd made based off data Xur had no knowledge of, and had zeroed in on a few spots. This was usually the part in which Trilla would step in and make a connection in about an eighth of the time it usually took him, saving him a lot of grief with her intellect.

_Back in my mind again._

"I'll be honest, I'm not very good with these things," Xur admitted. "But you can give me the rundown."

Velken smirked. "Heh, well this is just another day at the office for me," he pointed at various spots on the map. "I've narrowed down the possible locations of its resting place. The only problem is that I've checked all of them, and nothing on the surface gives me any clues that it's there. I've discovered that most of the star maps are in hard to reach, sub-surface areas, hence why this one has never been found, and I'm thinking this one may be buried underground…that or its in a cavern that caved in at the entrance."

Xur's knowledge of the history of the star maps was shoddy at best, even if he delved into Revan's strategies and writings of warfare for his own strategic insight. He also had no clue if the Rakata or Zeffo came first, but if a star map was here, then it made sense that perhaps the Zeffo discovered it and learned from it, advancing their technology very quickly.

Or this was all just a big coincidence.

"I've been trying to use this," Daniel heaved over a Rakatan relic that seemed inoperable. "I think it's a data cache, but I can't decipher it. The language is unreadable with my instruments."

"I have someone who could help with that," Xur noted, knowing Rava would love a chance to crack it.

"You have someone who understand Rakata?" Velken asked, crossing his arms.

"In a sense," Xur nodded. "She's a virtual intelligence. This kind of thing is her forte."

"Is she with you?"

The zabrak shook his head. "No. She prefers my wife, as it turns out, so she's currently with her."

"Your _wife?_" he asked incredulously, lacing a chuckle at the back end of it. "You married a former inquisitor?"

Xur shrugged. "We had a history before that."

Velken scoffed. "Hey, I respect that, as a matter of fact. I'm sure most Jedi would find that appalling."

"Oh, I know," Xur noted, recalling Ahsoka's reaction. "I regret nothing."

"Kids?"

"A little girl."

Daniel popped his brow, letting out some air. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. No better way to flip the bird to the Empire, though."

"That played a part in it," Xur chuckled. "She and I, well…we've been through hell together, and I knew after it was all over that I never wanted to let her go again."

Velken's eyes narrowed. "Then what are you doing here without her?"

Xur's answer fleeted from his mouth in sudden fashion, and by now he knew it was useless to continue to ignore the fact that he and his wife weren't having an easy go of it at the moment. Trilla was just…naturally demanding of his attention, not in an overbearing and needless way, but she wanted to see him or at least hear from him on a regular basis. It wasn't much to ask, in reality, but Xur had been chasing leads and fulfilling tasks for Vorchenko for long enough that time slipped by him on occasion, sometimes forgetting to keep to his obligation.

Still, doing this felt like another one of his obligations.

"Let's just focus on this," Xur drew his attention away, and Daniel only gave him one last trying look before accepting his standpoint. "Maybe you just need another set of eyes."

"Is that an offer?" Daniel asked.

Xur tipped his head. "It is. Let's see what you got."

* * *

**12 BBY – **_**Fury**_

Trilla hummed to herself as she carefully set her sleeping daughter into her capsule, planting a soft kiss on her forehead before shutting it closed and letting out a heavy sigh. Another day was finally complete, but her work was merely beginning, as the _Fury_ set itself down on their destination for their pickup. Fastening her gauntlet, she met Rava in the central area just as the android slung her blaster carbine over her back.

"An interesting way to protect my daughter, as locking the door may merely be sufficient," Trilla noted.

Rava turned, fastening her belt. "I'm coming with you."

The former inquisitor paused, her eyes staring blankly. "No you're not."

"This package needs my instruments to find it, and I need you to watch my back," Rava revealed, smacking her form-fitting armor in and crossing her arms. "Simple."

"Oh?" Trilla felt her frustration leak into her sarcasm. "Have you considered Katara? Who is to watch over her?"

"Ball me," Rava kicked her old BB platform at her feet, which was now active, regarding Trilla with its red optic.

"But you're—"

"I can be in both simultaneously, Suduri. The index upgrade now allows me to have the task capacity."

Rava was referring to the gift Trilla received from the Benefactor on Onderon many months ago. The index not only upgraded her software and task capacity, but it had been what allowed her to assume control of an android body in the first place. She was now nearly the level of a true AI, a fact that worried Trilla somewhat, even if she _did_ trust Rava with her life. Even so, the utility it had provided was becoming essential to their livelihood, especially with avoiding the Empire.

"How does that work?" Trilla enquired, shrugging. "How can you manage two of you with one brain?"

Rava's eyes panned up. "High priority sub-routines that I run in the background while I perceive my own main reality. A human or organic equivalence would be creating a clone of myself."

"You can do that?"

Rava shrugged. "Can you copy and paste a file on a datapad?"

"It can't be that simple."

"It _is_ that simple."

Trilla huffed. "Show me."

The VI lowered her gaze and kicked at the BB platform, which rolled forward and shocked Trilla in the foot, making her yelp.

"_Ow!_ You…bitch!" she growled. "That doesn't prove anything!"

"Oh, I know," Rava giggled. "Just wanted to do that."

"If you could feel pain…"

"Yes, I'm sure," the VI cut her off as BB-Rava rolled into Katara's room, looking just as she remembered. "Capsule is shut…and she's still asleep. Closing and locking door."

The door shut in the distance, and Trilla admittedly had run out of things to protest even if it was a minimal presentation. The faster they got this done, the less time this would be a problem.

Her helmet clapped into her grip from the table it was set on, and with haste and annoyance, she slid it over her head. "Let's get this over with," she grumbled, projected by the helmet's deep vocabulator tone.

"I do not wish to prolong this any more than you do," Rava made clear as she followed Trilla to the loading ramp and onto the forested surface. "Personally, I hate these missions. They are unrefined and poorly coordinated."

Trilla scoffed, turning to face her as she ended her walk abruptly. "Then what in blazes are we doing out here?! This was your idea, you miserable slab of tin."

Rava rolled her eyes. "Don't insult me. I am made of alloy metal and polymers, not—"

"I don't care if you're made of bloody latex, you fucking cunt!" Trilla roared behind her helmet, and then huffed, turning her cold shoulder. "To be honest, I am not even sure why I persist to listen to you. All you've ever done is berate me constantly and _endlessly_ without mercy."  
Rava stepped forward, wearing a challenging expression that almost translated to real emotion…something Trilla didn't think she could project.

"Cry me a fucking river, Suduri. If it wasn't for me, you would've wrapped a noose around your neck and hung yourself before even Katarr, you ungrateful little twat!"

"Fuck off!" Trilla whirled around and pointed. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be taking piss orders from the fucking Admiral, resigned to remain the shape of a testicle for the rest of your coherence."

"I've _never_ needed you to learn _anything_, you prissy fucking princess!" Rava retorted, becoming more furious by the second. It was odd to not be able to feel her blistering aura, almost as if Trilla was shouting at a ghost…not like she cared. She was far too angry to stop now.

"_Princess?!_ Say that again, and I'll dismantle you piece by piece!" Trilla growled, clenching her other fist.

"Fuck you! Princess!"

Trilla swung her metal fist at Rava's head, but the VI reacted with such mechanical precision that she merely tanked the hit and plowed her own into Trilla's helmet. The intense force whipped her head to the side in an almost sickening fashion, and the brunette fell to the grass in a disoriented heap, struggling to even tell up from down.

Rava just stared…absolutely horrified. The android looked down at her shaking hands, clenching the fist she had used to punch over and over, unsure what had possibly taken over her in such a blindingly quick moment. She was a…a machine…meant to not feel, to not retaliate…only to serve.

And yet here she was…shaking with emotion…looking down upon the friend she had just clobbered.

"Oh my…" she gasped, falling to her knees and grabbing ahold of Trilla. "Trilla, I'm sorry…I'm sorry!"

Trilla did not stir, move or even mumble a word. She was out _cold_, knocked into unconsciousness by Rava's harrowing strike.

_What happened?_

Quickly, she scanned her, and was relieved to find her still alive without any major injuries, even to her skull. The helmet took the brunt of the damage, thankfully, but upon further analysis, Rava feared she had suffered a concussion.

She truly had no idea what happened. These _things_ the index had implanted into her, they made her unsure of herself…question her actions, feel a pang of negativity when someone she spent time with left her, feel insatiable anger when in a pointless argument that before had only resulted in a loser and a victor.

Not one of them knocked unfeeling before the other.

Rava trembled, crushing her head with her hands as she tried to pull these feelings from her mind, but they were there…_always_ there, always speaking to her with every choice she made. Now, they were shouting _shame_ endlessly into the abyss of her synthetic, cold heart, screaming out at what a monster she must be to commit such an atrocious act upon a woman she respected so deeply.

_Guilt._

She had _no_ idea what to do. Rava merely shivered in place, praying that she would never feel this way again.

A stun bolt into her neck saved her from that terror.

* * *

Trilla awakened with her HUD a static and impenetrable mess, impossible to even glance through as it continued to spasm. Her head throbbed in a constant pain, one that made her groan and almost whimper as she forced herself to rise. Sliding her hands up her helmet, she unsealed and removed it from her head, taking a gasp of fresh air. Blood had dried up and sealed her cut lip shut, but her memory was so fogged she could not recall why she was lying on the grassy ground.

As her foot kicked something metal, she whirled around, finding the shut-down body of Rava plastered against the dirt…with a stun round plugged into her neck.

Terror gripped Trilla's heart.

Ignoring her pain, she vaulted herself to her feet and ran back to the _Fury_ at full speed, her hilt in her gloved grip as she rushed up the loading ramp. Desperation hit her as she mumbled _no_ constantly with each step she took, founding no sign of immediate foul play on her ship…until she found Rava's BB unit slumped over just as Rava had been.

And there was no baby crying.

"Katara…" she rushed into her room…and the capsule was gone.

Trilla screamed with tear-filled eyes, her heart gripped with a pain she hadn't felt since Katarr. "KATARA!"

She searched the entire ship, finding nothing, and all that came next was the despair of a mother whose child had been stolen, her wails and cries echoing endlessly through her ship…and into the Force itself.

On her knees, her tears fell, soaking her carpet with their moisture as her sadness compounded into anger, which thus became hatred. Her metal fingers dug into the carpet, tearing it asunder until she let out a scream of intense rage that only a grieving mother could ever muster.

She was going to get her child back.

And cut down _anyone_ who stood in her way.

* * *

**I hope that hurt as much as it hurt me to write it. No announcements. 'Nuff said.**

**Special thanks to my good friend Varyks Ren for the use of his OC Daniel Velken in this chapter, as well as a certain someone for beta reading it for me (you know who you are)! We're just getting started on that front.**

**Back in business. Settle in, my beautiful readers, for this arc will be a bumpy ride.**


	42. Night of the Hunter

**Night of the Hunter**

"Pray to your god, open your heart. Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark. Cover your eyes, the devil inside…"

**12 BBY – Teth**

_Run._

Those were the last set of orders given to Nerah as she fled from the _Fury_, pushing ahead the delicate package as quickly as she could. She had administered the sedative as instructed, though as to why was still an enigma to her. According to her research, Trilla Suduri had never commanded a fondness for pets or keeping living creatures, and it baffled her as to why this package could be so important.

Or why she had to run so damn fast.

Teth's terrain was not difficult to traverse, despite its various bouts of trees and flat-topped mountains. Because of the _Fury_'s detection and masking technology, she had been forced to make a long journey on foot, dropped off via the _Praetorian_ that was still in orbit. Since Teth was in Hutt Space, a faction currently at odds with the Empire in terms of fleet movement through their territory, sending an entire fleet would be too provocative, and the Empire did not want war with the Hutts. Not yet anyway.

She'd been running for almost two hours, and despite the strain on her body, she did not tire. Trained to be conditioned to almost machine-like levels, Nerah could maintain this pace for far longer if necessary. Her body would give out before she stopped, and from what she had seen Suduri do on Onderon a year ago, she needed to get as far away as she could before her extraction came in.

Finally coming to a stop, letting her lungs get a full breath, she stopped the capsule beside her, checking to see if her commlink was operational. Even with many kilometers of distance traveled, it merely fizzled with static, meaning she was still within range of the _Fury_'s jammers. Merely meeting her ride at the extraction point seemed like the best bet for now.

Pocketing her commlink, she manually lifted the capsule to begin her journey across the rocky zone. As she turned it, something flopped forward and smacked into the cover, making Nerah jump…but what came next stunned her even more.

_Crying._

"What?" she gasped through her helmet as she let the capsule hover again, trying to decipher whether or not the baby's crying was real. The wails continued, and she tried pushing it away for whatever reason, but they never ended, and eventually her curiosity got the better of her. Leaning in, she unlocked the capsule and felt her eyes bulge.

There was a toddler inside the capsule.

Nerah was a super soldier, trained to kill, hunt and fulfill her objective. She'd been asked to kill more people by now than she could count, and on very rare occasions did she regret her choices.

_Never_ had she been asked to kidnap a _child_.

It continued to cry and Nerah felt her heart wrench at its despair, but her focus on the mission pulled it back, knowing she had no time to reconsider anything…for it may cost her life.

But it was just a baby…

"Hello…" Nerah eased, reaching forward, only to hear the child scream louder.

"Bad!" she screamed. "Mama!"

"Bad?" Nerah asked rhetorically, and then shook her head, removing her helmet. "No, no! I'm not bad. I'm not scary. Look!" She smiled, cocking her head in adorable, teenaged fashion. "See?"

The toddler's cries became sniffles as she still looked terrified, but Nerah gently reached in and lifted her into her arms, feeling a part of her heart glisten at the chance. Being seventeen, Nerah had missed out on the average marrying and mating age by now, and she felt an almost natural motherly instinct with this child in her arms.

"Was that scary lady hurting you?" Nerah asked, holding her close, not surprised a terrorist like Suduri would do such a terrible thing. "Don't worry. I'm going to protect you now."

The toddler whimpered, shaking in fear and pain as the injury she sustained from the flop ailed her, and Nerah did her best to give her comfort. She removed one of her gloves to caress the child's head with her flesh hand, hushing it silent.

"_Shhhh_, it's okay. It's okay," Nerah eased. "I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise."

"I want mama," she whined, shivering.

"Mama?" Nerah asked, taking a seat against a nearby rock. "Who's your mama?"

The toddler shut her eyes, and Nerah quizzically watched her until she pointed back the way she came, and the chiss only cooed.

"I'm sorry sweetie…but we can't go that way. There's a bad lady who wants to hurt you," Nerah softly wiped the grime dirt from her face with her thumb. "She's a very mean person who likes to hurt people."

She'd seen the holos. Trilla Suduri was a menace that needed to be put down for the good of the galaxy, and Nerah would die before she laid her hands on such a beautiful little girl.

The chiss smiled. "What's your name?"

"Katara," she shivered.

Nerah rose to her feet, and then carefully set her back in the capsule. "I'm Nerah. I'm going to keep you safe, okay? Once the scary lady is gone, I promise I'll take you back to your mama."

Shutting the capsule, Nerah slid her glove back over and reapplied her helmet. Making sure her blaster was still primed; she engaged the float and continued her rapid movement.

This mission just got a lot more complicated.

* * *

**12 BBY – **_**Fury **_

It was a jolt, a fierce shock that restored her vision and reignited her visual receptors. Darkness became light, and she felt her servos grind into a stiff reboot position as the rest of her body followed…loosening with each part that warmed to life. There was no breath to take, no restoration of senses, blurriness or pain.

Rava simply arose.

Ignorance was then brushed away by the tsunami of unfamiliar feelings she had experienced before. Her memory did not falter, and even without context she felt everything just how she left it, right before that sudden deactivation that had spared her from the…the _thing_.

_Guilt._

Those emotions returned with a vengeance, the image of Trilla's motionless body in the dirt shaking her arms, shivering her fingers. She panicked, fumbling around and trying to smash her own head with the strength of her servo-powered arms. How could anything deal with this horrible, drowning regret? How could _anyone_ make _any _decisions for themselves?

How could she possibly live with this?

"Trilla…I'm sorry," she almost whimpered, beginning to produce synthetic tears. "I'm so sorry. I…I don't…"

"Get up," Trilla's voice demanded, sounding strained, rough and almost venomous. Rava looked up with frozen despair and saw Trilla's reddened eyes and makeup-smeared cheeks, the remains of moisture still present on her face. Her hair was a ruffled mess, uncombed and slick without a fresh wash, and her eyes…the green had begun to lose its ground again. "Get _up!_" Trilla shouted again, jerking the android to her feet with a harsh pull of her arm.

"Trilla…" Rava trailed, only staring her way as she walked over to the holotable with a vicious snarl, continuing her scan. "I'm—"

"Get your _worthless_ metal ass beside me and enhance the _fucking_ signal," Trilla growled, slowly turning her head her way. When Rava didn't move immediately, she screamed, "_NOW!_ Or I'll tear you apart _piece by fucking piece!_"

There was no choice remaining, and her natural instinct was to follow her instructions anyhow. Rava did as she was instructed, gaining access to the holotable and enhancing the signal scanning range to the entire planet. Pips of settlements and cities appeared as the information flooded in, and Trilla's bloodshot eyes watched intently for something Rava had no knowledge of.

"What happened?" she dared to ask.

Trilla's deep growl rumbled in her throat. "My daughter has been taken, slipped out from under my nose after you dared to strike me," her tone was different from normal, and yet strikingly familiar…almost distant. "Now we rectify my mistake of ever believing you to actually be of any use to me."

Rava shivered somewhat but had no words of retaliation. She merely nodded her head with acceptance. "Of course, Suduri."

"Download the map, droid," Trilla ordered, almost making sure Rava felt the verbal dagger that was the word _droid_ sink itself into her synthetic flesh. "The Empire is present above, so we cannot use the Fury. I will search on foot, and you will follow in my wake like the worthless drone you are."

Trilla's helmet landed in her grip as she called it with outstretched hands and pulled it over her head. Rava's guilt now became shame, and for the first time in her existence, words carried _pain_ as they entered her audio receptors. Her venomous insults weighed down upon her shame and dipped into a pool of sadness, sadness towards the unending anger Trilla was now drowning in.

Why did she care if Trilla berated her in such a way? Why did her words _hurt_ so badly?

This must be why Eon shed so many tears in times of conflict with her…because in the end, Rava cared for Trilla, and to see her in such a manner, to hear someone she cared about desire to hurt her…it broke her in a way. She lowered her head, glowering at the floor while Trilla prepared herself, and saw no other out than to appease her.

"I will follow you," Rava agreed.

"Good," Trilla's voice boomed through her vocabulator, and then turned on her heel with a flap of her cape. "Let's go."

* * *

**12 BBY – Teth**

Teth had proven to be much more inhabited than Nerah had been lead on, but she had done her best to avoid the settled areas to not tip off Suduri as she approached her ship on foot. It had been said that the woman could feel anyone tailing her from many miles away, and Nerah knew she had got by with a stroke of luck as she observed her arguing with her droid companion. She still had no idea why this child was important, even if the idea of Katara being Trilla's child had crossed her mind, but she shot it down with the obviousness of the terrorist's brutality. She could never conceive such a precious lifeform.

Although the crying was beginning to get on her nerves.

Long relinquished of her helmet, as it was a disguise one anyhow and she had planned to leave it behind at a certain point, she pulled her shoulder-length hair from her eyes as she groaned, finally stopping to open the capsule. Katara was in tears, but it wasn't quite wailing…more pouting.

"Katara…why are you crying?" she asked, unsure how else to frame it. "If you tell me, I can try to make you feel better."

She sniveled. "I'm hungry."

Nerah mentally grimaced. Should've figured that, and with her intelligence it was almost embarrassing.

Only, she had nothing a toddler could eat, as her ration sticks were too hard for her to bite down on. Katara needed something liquid or gooey…like milk.

_I could try that…_

But she had no idea how that would work, as she had never tried or even considered it. Chiss women her age could theoretically breastfeed as early as ten, sometimes even nine, and while Nerah was seven years senior to that…the thought still made her uncomfortable. This wasn't her child…and with her gear, it would be a tough maneuver.

Aside from the fact that she could _smell_ Suduri chasing after her now, Markov and Thrawn would scold her for hours for submitting to such a diversion.

She could try heading into the cantina she saw on the way to the _Fury_, but it wasn't likely they had baby food.

Nerah knelt so she could be at Katara's eyelevel. "Look, sweetheart, I don't have anything for you…could you try to tough it out for me? We're almost there, I promise."

Katara's downcast expression wrenched at her heartstrings, and her pouting only seemed to worsen.

_Whoever thought this mission was a good idea is going to have my pistol jammed into their jugular._

Unless it was Thrawn, or Markov…or _anyone_ who had the authority to send her on missions, which was a very sporadic few. Child stealing felt beneath her…_far _beneath her. Her frustration was about to erupt, but she stopped herself, knowing if she scolded Katara, it would just be downhill from there.

It was looking like the cantina was her best option.

Nerah flashed Katara a warm smile. "Um…tell you what, sweetheart, I know a place where they might have food for you to eat, okay?" she said, rubbing her thumb against the child's cheek. "But I'm going to need you to be quiet for me. If you be a good girl, I can get you some food faster."

Katara looked despondent, but she eventually laid back down in the comfortable covers. "Okay."

"Thank you!" she bloomed. "I promise, we'll have you a full tummy in no time."

Sealing the capsule, Nerah let her less enthusiastic face show itself as she picked up the pace, testing her conditioning ever further as she continued to make her way across Teth's surface. It wasn't long until she reached the cantina, and the gamorrean bouncer only looked to the floating capsule for a moment, before turning away.

Nerah hadn't waded through much of the galaxy's low life yet, but Hutt Space was the exact opposite of what the Ascendancy had to offer. Instead of over sophistication, the Hutts seemed to favor discord and disorder, which to her made about as much sense as her current mission. Cantinas around Hutt Space were notorious for their cesspools of scum and villainy, which was exactly what the Empire was tasked with scrubbing off the galaxy.

What she wore wouldn't give her away as Imperial, but her Basic accent certainly would in these parts. She'd been trained for subversion if need be, and now it was best to adopt her more crude form of speech and hope no one noticed that chiss didn't belong in these parts. Her crimson eyes quickly probed from patron to patron and found no immediate danger as she came up to the bar, letting the capsule float beside her.

"Hello," she greeted the duro bartender, getting a feel for her adjusted accent. "You wouldn't happen to have any…milk…would you?"

His pupil-less eyes regarded her for a moment, before he returned to cleaning his glass. "Milk?"

Nerah deadpanned, her gloved hand resting on the capsule. "Yeah…milk."

Someone behind her hollered, "I've got some milk for you back here, sweetheart!"

The chiss wasn't naïve enough to fall for that goad, and the various chuckles and laughs she picked up with her innate sense of hearing deciphered it as a sexual jest…a bad one at that.

Shaking it off, she continued to question the bartender. "Do you have any kind of paste of some sort?" she asked while mentally grimacing. _Some sort_ allowed her accent to sneak through, but she didn't think anyone noticed.

The duro did not appear inclined to assist her, and that was when someone rose to their feet and walked her way. Her ears perked as she contorted her wrist, prepared to flick out her holdout blaster if need be.

"What's in here?" the human asked, his clothing soiled and ragged, but she couldn't help but notice his holstered blasters. To Nerah's luck, Katara hadn't started crying yet, but him pointing towards the capsule raised her ire, and the last thing she needed was a traumatized toddler.

"Oh, it's nothing," Nerah tried to feign innocent ignorance.

"Well, if that's the case…you wouldn't mind if I…" his finger pressed the open control before she could realize what he was doing, and the top folded open, revealing Katara for all of them to see. She shivered slightly, taking in her surroundings, before desperately searching for Nerah as the man smiled. "Oh look! It's a baby!"

"Bad!" Katara shouted, trying to hide herself. "Bad!"

Nerah had no idea how she knew so quickly, but that put the chiss on alert, and as the man reached out again, she grasped his forearm tightly. "Don't," she warned, and that was when her accent completely came out.

He smirked. "Oh, look at this. We have a posh lady and her little baby, boys!" he drew laughs from the others. "It's been awhile since we've had a crack at one of you lot. I think we'll take that baby off your hands now…while you, pretty thing, are coming with us."

The chiss closed the capsule, and by now she had already telegraphed her move. "Last chance."

He scoffed. "I don't think you—" his taunt was cut short by her impossibly fast drawing of her holdout blaster and bolt straight though his heart.

The groan he emitted was the only sound that pierced the stunned silence that ravaged the cantina as his body flopped onto the floor. All conversation was ground to a halt, and all eyes were on her as Nerah stood and watched…hearing the bartender take a duck behind the counter.

A pin could've been dropped, and even the deaf would hear it.

Katara shrieked. "Bad!"

On cue, Nerah watched multiple men draw their blasters as they rose from their seats, and with a powerful kick, her boot tore over a table as she took cover behind it, grabbing the capsule and spinning so her back faced the blasterfire that now slammed into her cover. Katara cried in terror, and Nerah only shook her head.

"Um…sorry sweetheart, but Nerah has to go to work," she sweetly tried to calm her as the bolts kept pounding. "Back in a minute!" she shut the capsule and let her second holdout blaster slide from her wrist, deftly twirling them in her grip. Cracking her neck with twin jerks of her head, she rolled out of cover and fired two perfect shots that burned satisfying holes through two skulls, falling back into makeshift cover as the others followed suit.

"The fuck, man?!" she heard one of them whisper from across the cantina. "Is she fucking special forces?"

"Maybe."

Nerah cleared her throat, barely breaking a sweat by now. "If you boys back off now, you get to keep your lives. I'd consider that if I were you."

"I think we should take the deal man."

"Are you crazy?! She'll kill us anyway!"

The chiss chuckled. "Maybe, maybe n—" her cover was pulled aside as a massive devaronian lifted her by the collar, snarling as he did so.

"You just wasted my friend, little lady," he growled. "Now I'm going to waste you."

Nerah moved quickly, utilizing her dangling legs to wrap around his neck and lean back, forcing him to free her from his grip and shove her off before he suffocated. Flipping to her feet, his missed swings as she dodged sounded like they would hurt if they landed true, but her reflexes won out, kicking him into a table as he overextended his reach.

The other two took their chance and charged with battle roars and knives drawn. Nerah swept under one knife swing and caught the man's arm while simultaneously blocking the other with her gauntlet. Kicking out her old victim by the knee, he cried in pain as she threw him aside and engaged the other, dodging two swings before jabbing him in the throat with a quick fist. He choked for a moment, and Nerah took advantage of his falter with two punches to his chest and an over the shoulder takedown.

"Threatening a child?" Nerah spat, her annoyance building. "I ought to tear your spines out one by one."

The devaronian roared as he charged, but Nerah merely held her ground and stopped his advance with her raw strength, chopping at the side of his neck with her flat hand. He grunted, and his swings were met with dodges and a subsequent halt with her gauntlet before spinning into him with her holdout blasters revealed again, firing two lethal shots through his chest.

As the giant, horned alien fell to the ground, her other two victims were still writhing on the floor in pain, and she could only growl. "Perhaps next time you will consider your words before you use them."

One groaned. "Y-yeah! Sure lady. Will do."

With a sleight of hand motion to stow her blasters again, Nerah stepped over their forms and to Katara's capsule, opening it to reveal the frightened toddler. "Hey!" she beamed. "I told you I would be back in a minute. Sorry if that was loud, sweetheart," she caressed her cheek and activating the capsule to follow her again. Looking over the bar, she found the bartender shivering behind. "Food please."

He shuffled beneath, and then quickly revealed four paste tubes that would be perfect for her. "Please leave."

Nerah accepted the tubes and took Katara into her arms, letting the capsule follow as she left the cantina. Popping open the tube for her, she squeezed it for Katara to eat, and she could only giggle as she wolfed it down in hunger.

"Feel better?" she brushed her hair.

Katara nodded as she ate, her mouth covered in paste as she spoke. "Thank you."

As she pushed the door open and back out on Teth, she gave her a little kiss. "Of course. I told you I would protect you, didn't I?"

* * *

**12 BBY - Zeffo**

"W-woah! Dammit!" Xur cursed, grasping for the ascension cable as he was lowered down into the dark cave, the glow stick he had thrown down his target far below. He'd never been much of a fan of heights, but the black abyss below was what really got to him mentally…and the fact that Daniel Velken wasn't being gentle with the lowering act.

The latter being looked down from atop, stopping the mechanism for now. "What? Can't handle a tiny drop?"

Xur snorted. "If you consider a hundred-foot chasm into a black abyss tiny, then I guess you should be applauded for your rather foolish bravery."

"You'll be fine," he waved off, and reactivated the mechanism.

"Gah!" he grasped ahold as he felt himself fall for a moment. "Take it easy!"

"Heh, heh," Daniel chuckled.

"You're enjoying this…" Xur noted as the glowstick approached. "You know they didn't tell me you were such a jokester."

"I'm not. You just make it too easy."

Xur groaned as his feet hit the ground, unfastening the cable and igniting his orange blade to illuminate the cavern. "You sound like my wife."

Daniel clipped the hook to his belt and descended, now with the titian glow to show him exactly where the ground began. "When we…_met_…I can't remember what planet it was, but we never actually fought. She hunted me through the streets, sewers, mag-lev system, all of it. I actually ended up using it as a way to fake my death…but, I'll be honest with you. That was the first time I'd felt legitimate fear in a long time."

Xur watched him land with a little grace, unhooking himself and letting the cable dangle for them to use again. The cavern was large; most of the sides either caved in or sides of solid bedrock…but Xur couldn't help but notice signs of Imperial activity, as well as a distinct side passage that had to have been dug out by someone.

"This way," Daniel beckoned towards that exact passage, and Xur followed his lead, albeit beginning to shiver as his breath was visible in the cold air. "How did you fake your death?"

The zabrak almost laughed. That felt like a lifetime ago. "Baited an Inquisitor into utilizing a fuel leak to set me on fire, then I fell into a canyon about three hundred or so feet, was caught by a probe droid with gravity lifts and tossed into a niche in the side of the cliff. Then set off an explosion above with a few body parts from dead stormtroopers. They were all vaporized, but it had to look convincing."

Daniel snorted. "Your admiral help you?

"Of course."

"Ah. And how long were you undercover?"

Xur swallowed, forced to remember it all in detail. "Something like seven months."

Daniel stopped by a turn in the cave, and this is when the durasteel panels began to appear, furthering Xur's assumption that this was all carved out unnaturally. "Do you think it was worth it?"

"Absolutely," he replied without hesitation. "If you saw what I have now…even after all the things I had to go through, I'd think you'd agree."

Daniel nodded, "Maybe," before turning the corner with his head low, coming to the overlook of a light-lit Imperial mine. Xur had remembered Cal's stories of the ice caves and Imperial operations underneath Zeffo, and this was everything he had expected of them. Daniel was already pressing forward, and before Xur could realize they weren't alone, he pulled a scout trooper into a choke hold and yanked him aside, keeping him out of view as they entered the catwalk. Xur had already stowed his blade as he followed, although stealth was not his forte.

"What is she like now?" Daniel asked, hitting the end of the catwalk that looked down into the mine, only occupied by sporadic trooper patrols.

"Trilla?" Xur asked.

"Yeah. I imagine she's probably not as murderous, especially since you married her."

The zabrak smiled to himself. "She's lovely."

* * *

**12 BBY – Teth**

"_Gah! Ahhhhhhh!_"

"Now, let me ask one more time. Who came through here?" Trilla's sinister voice projected calm, stoic resolve from her helmet, and the smell of charred flesh was filtered out before it reached her nose. The screams emitted from the roughed-up patrons who had asked her for compensation for her requested information were becoming music to her ears the longer they persisted. She had one pinned under her knee as she lowered her blade into his back, searing his skin while the other clawed at his throat from her outstretched hand. Everyone else had been scared off by now, but she could care less.

She _will_ know who took her daughter.

"_Ahhhh! _Blue lady!" the one beneath her knee shouted. "Take it off! Fuck! Take it off!"

_Of course._

Trilla pulled the blade from his back and rose to her feet, letting the other crash onto the floor as he caught his breath. "Did she have a child with her?"

"Red baby…" he whimpered on the floor. "Was looking for food. She had an…accent. _Gah!_ Imperial."

_Looking for food._

Trilla turned to Rava. "Search the area for footprints leaving this cantina, and I want every spec of land in every direction scanned and coded."

The android still looked about as emotionally useless as she had recently, and her docile look flinched for a moment. "Trilla…shouldn't we—"

"Get to work," she cut her off, and then took a knee beside her victim. "Which way did they go?"

He whimpered from his wound.

Trilla lost her patience and slammed her fist against his back, making him scream. "_Which way did they go?!_"

"Back door!" he cried, and then managed to point. "Out that way…"

She vaulted to her feet with that confirmation, returning her hilt to her belt as she quickly paced out of the cantina and into the air, Rava already waiting for her with her eyes glowing blue as she completed her scans. Her fist clenched with impatience as the need to press on only intensified, as each passing second only made Katara feel that much farther away.

Trilla could care less what path she left behind trying to reclaim her baby girl.

"Well?" Trilla asked, feeling her fingers crack against the pressure she infringed upon them.

Rava's expression wedeled down to emotional despair, shaking her head before beginning to crush it once again. "I can't do this…I can't do this."

"Are you cross-wired?" Trilla spat. "What are you talking about?"

The android appeared as if she was hyperventilating, her eyes flashing about in terror. "How do you…how do you deal with this?"

Trilla grabbed ahold and forcefully shook her body. "If I lose my daughter because of your ineptitude, I will melt you down!"

"Let go of me…" Rava growled.

Her helmet cocked to one side. "Do not test me!"

"If you do not listen to me, you will _never_ find her again!" Rava shouted.

A part of Trilla snapped violently back into place with Rava's demand, and for a moment her sense returned enough to consider her words. The silence that had been infringed upon her lips seemed to give Rava the composure to continue her rant, even if Trilla had no idea what she was struggling with. Everything had been a haze since she had awoken, unable to remember how she ended up lying against the dirt outside of the _Fury_, and the news that Katara had been taken had only thrown her into complete disarray.

A complete, unbridled rage.

"There is something wrong with my circuits, Trilla," Rava almost plead, her voice troubled and laced with too many emotions for Trilla to decipher and detect. "I can't…_think_. All I can do is _feel_ and it _hurts!_"

Trilla had never seen her in such a state before, as now that calm, synthetic expression and precision was nowhere to be found. It was almost as if…as if she were _alive._

_The index._

Now it all made sense, and Trilla knew what she had to do.

"She's struggling," Trilla's ears perked as time seemed to slow around her, and just over her shoulder was the Second Sister pacing out from the woods. "If you don't help her now, you'll never find your daughter."

Trilla grimaced, her teeth grit as she forced herself to look away. "Get out of my head."

"I could say the same thing to you," the Second Sister stopped just behind her, the voice she projected filled with more malice than ever before. "Let me in. Let me bring our daughter back!"

"She is _not_ your _daughter!_" Trilla whirled around, screaming as her helmet nearly rammed into the projection of her inquisitor self. "All you are is a dead memory that will _never_ return, and I swear…I will _never_ let you inside my head again."

"I'm not the dead memory," she growled…and it was only then that she realized the Second Sister's eyes were emerald green. "_You are._"

That malice in her voice faded away into indifference, adopting the same tone she'd used since she ripped off the beskar Imperial insignia from her suit. Terror tore through her psyche, and she reached forward, begging the spectre of herself with a violent shake.

"Help me…get her out! Get her out before I hurt someone else!" she plead, her voice hoarse and terrified.

Her spectre gave her nothing and turned away. "The rest is up to you."

"Trilla."

Rava reappeared before her, shoved back into the instance she had left with the appearance of herself. She blinked as the android tried to get her attention, and Rava leaned in again.

"Please help me."

That panic she had begun to fade, and Trilla did her best to shove away all the darkness that was building within her. As of now, there was far too much, but she managed to seal at least a part of the Second Sister away long enough for her to look Rava in the eye.

"You're too used to multi-tasking at incredible levels," Trilla eased. "Focus…one thing at a time. Face each emotion on its own, and I know you'll find the strength to conquer each one. They are nothing to be afraid of, and once you embrace that fact…I promise, you will get through it."

Rava focused for a moment, but eventually nodded. "One at a time…very well."

Trilla let her go. "Good. Now, try to do it on the way. We need to keep moving."

* * *

**12 BBY – Zeffo**

"Hey…have you ever seen one of those jotaz things?"

The scout trooper's buddy groaned with annoyance as he secured the last crate. "Are you going to ask me about _every_ dangerous animal on this blasted planet?"

"I'm just…you know…trying to be prepared."

"The only people who see a jotaz end up dead, corporal."

"What?"

"You heard me, now get back to work!"

"Sir!"

Daniel's specs lowered as he set them back onto his belt, and then tapped Xur's back, who was watching the other direction. "It's through there. Solid bedrock. Lightsabers can't even cut through it."

"Uh-huh," Xur deadpanned, still watching his direction from their catwalk perch above the Imperial mine. "I'm guessing you have an alternative?"

"The Empire does," he looked down to his chrono. "Right about…now."

On cue, Xur watched the transport turbolift doors open, and out rolled a clandestine Imperial officer flanked by a squad of troops and what looked to be a crate of explosives being rolled out behind them. Immediately the officer began to point out orders in a "lay down the law" fashion, and the scout troopers they had observed started to clear the area for the squad to do their work.

"I've been listening to their comm channels and planning this for weeks," Daniel revealed. "They know something's back there…I'm just not sure if they know it's _it_."

"Why didn't they just blow it when they found out immediately?" Xur asked.

"Well they tried drills at first, but the winds here on Zeffo kill most of them before they can drag the equipment this deep. Then they tried their basic ordinance, and it only chipped at it, so now they're bringing in the big-time bombs. Once they blow it open…I'm almost certain the star map will be waiting there."  
"Huh," Xur mused, finding his explanation typical of incompetent Imperial procedure. "So our plan is to wait here for them to blow it to pieces, hope the explosion doesn't kill us, then swoop in, kill them all and take the prize?"

Daniel shrugged. "You're on top of it."

The zabrak was much more used to thought out and methodical plans…mostly due to the company he had been keeping most recently. Part of him preferred the "jump in and see what happens" approach, since it was much more entertaining, and the results usually came out. Even so, having a trusty thinker always at his side was a nice balance of strategy.

Instinctually, he clung to their natural bond for a moment, and he felt it bite back.

"_Ugh_," Xur grimaced, feeling the darkness come over him that Trilla responded with…her hatred, desperation and stalwart resolve. Despite that, he felt she was safe, but distressed…_dangerously_ distressed.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?" Daniel prodded with his elbow. "Ten minutes until they blow this thing."

"Dammit…it's Trilla," Xur said, shaking his head as the feelings passed. "I think she's in trouble…something's wrong."

"Could just be the place," Daniel figured. "Didn't you say the two of you dueled here?"

"Well yeah, but…" Xur trailed off as he considered the likely possibility, but it just didn't seem likely, not with how the feelings stemmed from their active bond, and not the touch of an object or a simple memory. This felt…this felt current, truly without much of a doubt.

"I've seen that look before," Daniel pointed out, facing him this time. "You're about to go after her, and I'm going to tell you right now, that isn't necessary."

The zabrak narrowed his eyes, feeling a slight bit of incredulous intrusion. "How the hell would you know that?"

"Because you trust her, don't you?" his stare pierced through Xur's veil as his words entered his ears. "I've seen her in action. You got nothing to worry about."

Xur wanted to believe him, but that feeling of regret that had plagued him for so long began to return…when he realized that he had failed to protect her when she needed him most of all. When she had been taken by the Empire and turned into something horrifying, her beauty and complexity stripped away…he could never let that come to pass ever again. She was just…

Trilla Suduri was everything to him, and it felt like she needed him now.

"I have to go," he shook his head, preparing to head back the way they came, but was stopped by Daniel's grip on his forearm.

"Eon, you'll never reach her in time anyway. She's halfway across the damn galaxy," he kept his voice low.

"I can't just leave her to this. I won't!" he shout-whispered in retort. "The last time I felt this way, I did nothing, and do you want to take a guess what happened?"

Daniel only stared, before turning away and letting go of his arm.

Xur took a knee, keeping his emotions reasonable. "I do trust her, more than anyone, but if I don't go to her now…how am I supposed to look at my daughter and tell her why she has to grow up without a mother?"

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't, and that's the point," Xur made clear, and then dug through his armor for his holocapture, and then revealed an image of himself, Trilla and Katara together posing for a photograph, looking as happy as a family could. "I can't let that go. I'm sorry."

Daniel did not immediately retort, and this time Xur spotted his eyes gloss for a moment, as if lost in a reverie of his past. Through that he could only assume that Velken had walked this road before, and whatever happened…it had scarred him, leading him down the path he currently walked. The zabrak always spotted that glint in his eye when he brought up family…almost as if it was a truth he had once known and chosen to forget.

This time, however, it seems that Xur's words rang true.

Velken sighed, pulling his eyes away from the operation. "So…where are we going?"

"_We?_" Xur asked, somewhat astonished. "Don't you want the star map?"

Daniel waved it off. "I'll just steal it later."

The zabrak smirked. "Heh, not a bad idea, I guess. Let's go. You can bunk in my TIE," he ushered, heading back the way they came.

"We're heading to Hutt space."

* * *

**I'm back!**

**I think.**

**Who knows? I think I'm back, actually. Been feeling that urge finally returning, and I've got a few ideas that I can throw your way. Stay frosty! Hope you liked this one.**

**Thanks of course to Varyks Ren for the use of Daniel Velken.**


	43. INTERLUDE IV

**INTERLUDE IV**

**TARGET ZERO**

**Belsavis, 16 BBY**

**Imperial Prison**

The wall blew apart, the blast tossing bodies, debris and solid duracrete hundreds of feet into the air as the explosion tore through open space, the alarms that already blared silenced by the intense blast. Stormtroopers raised bloodied hands with torn gloves, their fingers slipping through holes before their hands dropped, giving their last breath. Many followed his example, and some weren't even granted the pleasure to die with that knowledge. Some had been vaporized entirely, their skin, bones and armor scattered in various directions as their perception was met with an immediate black oblivion.

What followed was a wave of yells, battle cries and screams as a mob of prison-dressed captives of a plethora of races poured from the hole they had just created, freeing themselves back onto Belsavis' geothermal surface. Those bodies were trampled upon, some having their blasters taken as the mob opened fire upon the survivors of their vicious attack. Numbers won out easily for now, and in only a few moments was the entire Imperial front line wiped out.

Making Captain Fullam's day even worse.

The men under his command had to have been the very last to graduate from the Imperial Academy, scraped from the barrel and shipped to the most remote planet in Imperial space. Belsavis wasn't short on beautiful views and scenery but serving as the Empire's largest prison encampment made it the premiere destination for the worst failures in the Imperial military. If someone didn't cut it, send them to a planet to be forgotten, and where they were more likely to be killed by an inmate than produce a solid career.

Idiots…the lot of them. How does one allow an explosive of that size to be strapped to a maximum-security prison wall?

The worst part was that his superiors wouldn't care about the ineptitude of his constituents, only that it happened, and under his watch. He almost found his chances of survival be more preferable if he merely jumped into the charging mob and let them tear him to pieces.

No. He was going to fix this. Only problem was, he'd already called for help, and so far he had only seen one lone TIE interceptor fly overhead five minutes ago, and two or three gunships three minutes before that. He wasn't sure if the Empire were just laughing at him at this point, but he imagined such a prison break couldn't be left alone, certainly with how badly outnumbered he currently was.

Surely _someone _felt bad for him.

"Captain…"

Fullam wiped the dirt from his eyes and adjusted his helmet, turning to his stormtrooper second in command crouching in the trench beside him. "What now?"

All he granted him was a jerking of his helmeted head behind him, and Fullam turned, seeing a fully outfitted squad of what looked to be special forces stormtroopers, lead by a woman dressed in black, her face concealed by a terrifying black helmet.

His sigh tore from his lungs, rising to his feet. "Reinforcements? Emperor's glory…I can't express—"

"I care little for your relief at our presence, Captain Fullam," the woman responded, her voice like a mechanical horror as it was projected through the helmet. "Explain to me the current status of your containment."

Fullam blinked, and he figured that was his first mistake, as his hesitation drew on. They certainly _looked_ like special forces, but they were lead by a _woman_, and he'd been warned about impostors back during his academy days, how they could implant themselves anywhere…impersonate anyone.

Back when he was listed 249th out of 250 students in his class.

"On whose authority do you dare to presume to give me commands?" he pointed, and he could've sworn he caught one of the special forces troops slouching his head in a _here we go again_ fashion. His observation skills weren't good enough for him to pick it out, but the woman merely rolled out her gloved wrist.

"I'm going to ask one last time, Captain Fullam," she said, ignoring the current situation. "Explain to me the current status of your containment."

Something about her voice froze him in place, and he felt sweat drip down his face as he looked over to his fellow stormtroopers, who seemed perfectly content with remaining out of this current affair. Her right hand was inching towards an object on her left hip, and he swallowed as he recognized the familiar weapon of the mystic forces he had heard rumors about.

Then it all made sense.

"If you're here about the Jedi, you've wasted your time. She was spotted killed four days ago just outside the perimeter gate."

The woman let her hand swing back to her right hip, cracking each knuckle as her crimson gaze probed the destroyed wall. "Yes, I have heard that story. I have also heard that the section of this perimeter gate that has been blown to oblivion was where her body was found, and that within a few hours, her corpse disappeared without a trace."

Fullam shrugged. "We confirmed it was dragged off by a beast of some sort."

"The Kintan Crusher or perhaps a swamp lurker," the woman filled in for him. "Native to this section of Belsavis. However, both have been famously known for _not_ taking an interest in the corpses of sentient species, especially the suspected species of our Jedi."

He felt his annoyance bristle as the woman rambled on, and he found himself without any meaningful words. "Perhaps," he said.

She looked up, watching the chaos continue as multiple troopers and prisoners continued to be shot dead. "Clear this area," she directed to her men, and the one to her right nodded in acknowledgement, having the rest of the special forces troops leap across the trench and towards the fight.

"Thank you," he huffed. "I will have my men supp—"

"You will tell your men that they follow my orders from now on," the woman cut him off. "And that they will refer to me as _Inquisitor_."

* * *

**Belsavis, 16 BBY**

**Ancient Vault**

The eye was perhaps the most gullible patron in an audience, willing to cling to its first sight, and then retain that perception until no perceptions remained. This fact could hide key clues to various mysteries in plain sight as the obvious was projected, and the less so brought in behind. It was a trick perhaps as old as deception itself, but the key was in its delivery. Absolute deception required studying the subjects one by one, and exposing their preconceptions bare before their eyes.

Prison guardsmen were easy. Have a prisoner escape a supermax prison and have them found dead a few days later. They were never expected to make it far, and to reinforce that belief made it even easier to hook itself into her target. Every guardsman now was convinced that their zabrak Jedi prisoner was dead.

Zahira had never been afraid of death, as there was only the Force anyhow, but there was a sickening feeling when she emulated it. All life was precious to her, even those that were terrifying, and she could never imagine harming anything on the sole basis of fear.

There was much fear in this galaxy, nowadays, and not even she could confidently say she was free of it.

"They've found me," she said, her accented voice that of an inconsistent mix of a hard-Imperial core-ward dialect and a steady stream of a mid-rim native of the Pentastar multi-sector. Spending most of her life on Dantooine, Zahira was a healer in the absolute sense, her powers derived from the alleviation of suffering, and the cleansing of darkness itself. As a Jedi, it had been her duty to protect and nurture those who desperately needed her.

Now, she merely had the time to protect and nurture _herself_.

"Persistent, the enemy is," said the Force-induced image of Master Yoda, his cane in hand as he regarded Zahira from his distant view on a distant planet. "This dark presence, feel it you must…understand them, observe them."

Zahira closed her eyes from her meditative position, reaching out to the mass chaos that had been created by her distraction…as well as no shortage of egging on to the prisoners. The new presence she felt…they were fierce…dogmatic…and yet…_sad_. This person existed in a constant state of painful resignation, but most of those thoughts had been dismissed and buried. The darkness reigned supreme from this one figure, corrupting all who they touched…and infecting all who they spoke to with _terror._ She'd experienced this presence before, an undeniable mark of an ever-present foe.

"An inquisitor," Zahira answered, keeping her eyes shut. "They've come for me."

Yoda emitted a deep grumble as his stare became distant, and his eyes closed. "Flee, you cannot," he replied grimly. "The Force…reveals a future, uncertain. Sense that this hunter possesses a deep connection to you, I do."

Zahira frowned, although not losing herself to the Master Jedi's rather incredulous idea. "If I do not flee, then what must I do, Master?" she asked. "I am only one against what are sure to be many."

Yoda chuckled. "One, you are, yes…but many, you can become," he suggested, pointing his cane. "Deception, not the way of the Jedi…but the aversion of evil…"

"Can save many if wielded properly," Zahira finished for him, already sprouting ideas in her mind. "I remember, Master."

There was somewhat of a sad look on Yoda's face, which made her confidence fall, but Zahira waited before asking why he looked such a way. "Help you, I cannot," he admitted. "But with your teachings, need me, you will not."

She hesitated. "Master…"

"Remember, Padawan…the shroud of the Dark Side clouds all…even those who wield it…" he left her with those final words, before disappearing, and leaving her alone in the vault where she had taken refuge.

She sighed to herself, reserved to the predictability of her old master's behavior. While it was never formal, Yoda had taken a strong liking to her training on Dantooine every time he would visit, and even to the point where they had a special holocomm frequency to privately communicate. Zahira always loved his quirkiness, and they got along rather well, despite Yoda's odd training methods.

It was a shame the Jedi had come to this…hiding in caves and vaults, hoping to never catch the scent of the Empire and its enforcers. While Zahira had never feared them, she truly had no intention of drawing herself out…but it appeared she was long past the point of no return.

All she could do now was get to work.

* * *

**Belsavis, 16 BBY**

**Imperial Prison**

When the last prisoner finally fell, it was almost a shame, even for one who didn't have much of a craving for a fight as many were led to believe. The only idiots who went out and searched for heads to bash were in fact the ones who had their heads bashed in first…just as soon as the fighting began. Patience for those should be reserved from minimum to absolute zero in the eyes of a competent commander, and yet so many of the stormtroopers around Commander Vogel Brutis had fallen prey to that exact disease.

Wiping off the bodily fluids from his electrohammer, Brutis slung it over his shoulder and left it holstered, stepping over the bodies in his wake as the flames around the quelled prison riot were quenched. His HUD was already mucked up and difficult to see through, and not even the internal clearing systems were working properly…not to mention the blaster shot and knife he took to the hip. His armor had taken the brunt of the damage, and while it had really only pissed him off, it still hurt.

He roughly grasped ahold of a stormtrooper's arm as he passed, towering over the shorter man.

"If any one of your fucking stray shots come near me again, I'll cut out your intestines and hang you with them," he growled.

"Y-Yes sir!" he stammered, just as Brutis shoved him away.

"Useless prick," he grumbled, making his way back to where the rest of the squad was assembled.

Almost on cue, he started hearing bitching. "Who would've thought we'd be resigned to putting down prison riots?"

Brutis spotted two purge units conversing with each other, one who had popped up his helmet to take a swig from his flask. That behavior was absolutely unacceptable, but Brutis never cracked down on it.

Because he did it himself.

"I don't know what she's thinking now," the other kept his tone low, but not low enough for Brutis to miss his complaint. "First its relic hunting, now Belsavis? Everyone knows you can't hide here."

Brutis took his seat on a log. "Are you two done bitching?"

The one with the perked-up helmet slapped it back over his head. "Commander! Sorry sir…" he apologized, to which Brutis could care less. "You want some rum?" he offered his flask, almost to seal the apology.

"Don't like that shit," Brutis shook his head. "It's too sweet."

The other scoffed. "What do you drink? Rancor's Gut?"

"It's going to be your cranial fluids if you don't shut your fucking mouth."

They both stiffened. "Right…o-of course, sir."

Even purge troopers could be scared into pissing their armor. All it took was the right words from the right people, and they revealed they were nothing more than cowards like the rest. Brutis wasn't a talker, and he made sure everyone in his unit knew to keep their opinions to themselves.

Especially around the inquisitor.

As for her, she was pacing around the blasted hole in the prison wall, letting her crimson slit in her helmet scan the destruction, her red blade sheathed for now. Her quiet observation sometimes aggravated her squad, but they'd learned long ago to keep their complaints to a minimum. While the Second Sister had no patience for incompetence, she was willing to suffer mild objections, if they had merit…but they hardly ever did in her eyes. She was certainly smart, Brutis would give her that, but her dogma slowed her down, sometimes making her too narrow-minded.

Not like he cared much at all about that. She did her job, and he did his. Simple.

Once she finally turned away and paced back to where they were assembled, Brutis rose back to his towering full height, his head peaking over all others as her unit acknowledged her presence.

"The Jedi was here," she concluded, her stance straight, yet relaxed. "But there are no tracks where she fled…no residue of her escape, and yet her presence remains."

"Perhaps she used a vehicle," another unit suggested, Commander Archer, the clone in which Brutis was forced to share command with. "Hover speeders don't leave tracks behind."

"They leave fuel residue," the Second Sister countered, pointing her finger. "But with the explosion, it is possible it was all burned up. Perhaps the Jedi knew this and utilized the explosion as cover…"

"Someone would've seen her take off," another pointed out. "Or at least have footage."

"You put too much faith in this band of sorry shit-cunts," Brutis glowered, his arms crossed. "Your first mistake was thinking anyone running this prison was competent."

"Agreed," the Second Sister nodded, turning to the unit. "From now on, keep your thoughts to yourself."

He shivered for a moment, but tipped his head, remaining silent. If Brutis had learned anything, you had to earn the right to speak in this unit.

"We're on our own," the Second Sister reiterated. "We cannot trust any other's data other than our own findings. I want a full scouting report of this area, as well as any nearby refuge. Archer, you are to mobilize the Imperial forces to undertake this endeavor. All findings are to be reported to me, and me alone. We cannot trust that every Imperial is not a traitor. Brutis, you will follow me as I conduct my own investigation, as well as a contingent of three other units."

Once her orders were given, there were no objections. Everyone simply got to work, and Brutis stifled his grumble.

Tailing the Inquisitor…_again_.

* * *

Nothing…there was literally nothing.

Trilla Suduri could pick out a ruse from a star system away, as it was a skill the Second Sister had granted her, and yet here on Belsavis she was beginning to find herself stumped. There was no trace to be followed, no trail to pick up on…not even any fear to _smell_. It was starting to infuriate her, but she didn't dare let that sink in and cloud her reality. Keeping her focus forward was going to be key for unraveling this rather concerning mystery before her. She'd observed camera footage, but everything had been flashed and wiped…which suggested either an inside traitor, or that their Jedi was a covert specialist, aware of the internal security the Empire boasted.

The former was the most likely, but something was telling her that this hunt was either a wild bantha chase or for a Jedi that could be out of their league. No Jedi was beyond _her_…but her squad was another matter. While she had competent leadership like Commander Archer, as well as an unstoppable hammer like Brutis, all others had the mental consistency of a donut, and the awareness of a blind rodian. She compensated for this weakness by keeping her teams small, and the rest away from her workspace, taking care of trivial tasks, but it only worked in so many areas. Small teams tested their bandwidth to extremes.

All trivial thoughts…bringing her no closer to her prey.

Trilla rested her left hand on her hip as she looked over Belsavis' plains that eventually gave way to the towering ice walls, her cape ruffling in the cold wind. The insulation her suit provided warded off any chill, and she had never been susceptible to the cold much anyhow.

She had suffered far worse discomforts.

"Inquisitor…"

Trilla turned her helmeted head, greeted to the red glowing visor of one of her squad members, his rifle held over his chest. "What is it?" she asked, not giving him her full gaze.

"We were scanning the area when we stumbled across this torn robing…" he held out a maroon colored cloth, obviously ripped from clothing, and at first glance it was the same material the Jedi used to fashion their robing. "We think it might've been lost during the Jedi's escape from the prison wall."

That was the obvious theory, which meant it _could_ be true, but likely wasn't. They were dealing with a Jedi who moved with intent, as it seemed, and did nothing without reason. Slip-ups were possible, and she certainly didn't rule it out…but again, not likely.

"Let me see," she accepted the cloth, and paced away, giving it a look. Its make was refined, almost beautiful, even with only a piece of it to relish the design. She noticed signs of embroidery, and areas where it had been removed. Whoever this Jedi was, they had a good sense of fashion, and perhaps took pride in how they looked.

_Insecurity…_

Perhaps they were hiding because they had already assumed they could not win, and were desperately searching for a means of escape…but for one to cover their tracks so heavily…they couldn't be incompetent. This Jedi had intelligence, and whether it rivaled her own was another matter to be discovered.

Her list of rivals in that category was staggeringly short, and it was reduced heavily when the deceased were removed.

A vibration had Trilla's hand wrap around her hilt and draw it at the ready but did not ignite it. The Force pulsated in the distance…a wave of life all connected, barreling towards them. Trilla initially shrugged the warning off as merely a collection of insects as usual, but the rumbling only became louder as she waited.

"Bloody hell," Brutis grumbled, not far from her. "What is that?"

It wasn't an earthquake, couldn't be. Not much could vibrate the earth as much, unless it was a heavy tank moving into their position, but Trilla had all military operations suspended for now.

Her commlink blinked.

Activating it quickly, she brought her wrist upwards. "What is it?"

"_Sorry Inquisitor_," the voice apologized, Captain Fullam's. "_But, it appears you have a phenomenon headed your way._"

Trilla growled. "Speak plainly. Explain."

Fullam hesitated, seemingly conversing with someone else, before turning his head back. "_A massive herd of animals just trampled one of our squads…and…_"

Trilla's gaze looked up as the ground shook more violently, and over a distant hill she watched as the plants and dirt were kicked up with each massive fist that pounded along, the bipedal creatures charging on their feet and knuckles. She felt their anger in the Force, and it only seemed to feed her own.

_Kintan Crushers._

"Fuck me," Brutis cursed, pulling out his electrohammer, while the other two drew their blasters.

"Inquisitor…?" they asked.

Trilla scowled under her helmet, letting her crimson blade snap and hiss to life as she waited. She counted ten…twenty…over forty crushers about to trample them, and by then she had already abandoned her squad.

They were on their own.

Running the opposite direction was pointless, even with her incredible speed, as four feet were always faster than two, so she spared herself the pointless flailing attempt to do so. Utilizing the Force, she propelled herself into the air, rocketing upwards with her crimson blade trailing behind in her wake. Her cape fluttered, and as gravity began to take hold, the wind rushed past her audio receptors before landing boots-first atop one of the crushers. It roared as she used force stick to keep her boots fazed to its hide, turning her gaze to the front. Brutis swung his hammer at the first, but even his raw strength was not enough to stop the all-muscle of the towering creatures.

She took a moment to consider whether or not she should let him die. He'd certainly put up a fight, but he would not be fast and nimble enough to avoid the stampede that was already crushing the others in a bloody mess.

_Wasteful._

No. She needed him.

Reaching out, the Force rumbled and heaved as he was lifted into the air, flailing for a moment with the sudden movement. Trilla grunted as she pulled and tossed him over the final crusher in the herd, avoiding the onslaught.

Her ride bucked, and this time it was enough to break her hold as her feet slipped, tossing her onto the grass. Thinking and reacting within seconds of the occurrence, Trilla landed on both feet and backflipped through the air, just before the crusher behind her made use of its name.

Landing just in front of Brutis, she ignited her second blade, and watched as the crushers came back around.

Someone was influencing this. Crushers would not pursue them as prey, as they did not have enough meat to compensate them for the effort it would take to kill them. It was common nature philosophy.1

Yet they were hell bent on killing just the two of them.

"Beast control," she muttered aloud, just as Brutis grunted, holding his hammer at the ready.

"I don't know what the fuck that is, but if you're doing this, I'd say stopping would be a good idea," he spat.

Trilla just snarled as they came back around, engaging the spin of her blade. "Get behind me."

One Jedi could not influence all of these crushers…no Jedi _alive_ anyway. There had to be a singular incision point that webbed all the others together…but what?

She watched how the herd moved and noticed a momentary break in formation as they turned towards their direction. Many were confused…almost rattled, until one of the largest snarled the loudest, its eyes fixated on Trilla with lethal precision.

_There._

"Thermal detonator," she held out her hand, ending the spin of her blade.

Brutis growled, slapping one into her grip. "You're a bloody madwoman."

"So they say," she remarked, and then armed the explosive, hearing it prime and then beep its countdown. Timing her throw, she observed the crusher's roars with its gaping mouth as the others caught on, joining it its fury. Keeping her mental clock, she waited…and hurled.

_BOOM!_

Landing directly on its massive tongue, the thermal detonator exploded on impact, charring flesh and spewing organic insides in multiple directions. The blast itself instantly killed the target, as well as a few surrounding the massive crusher, while the others ran in terror from the loud shockwave. Trilla almost smirked as the web was torn asunder…until five of the crushers didn't take the hint.

Her crimson beam slithered through the air as she brought it across and zipped forward, dismembering one crusher and deftly backflipping over the other just behind. Dodging each swing before they were even thrown, Trilla weaved in between massive flailing arms and desperate kicks, her cape spinning in a cyclone with her movements. Reaching out with precision, she drove her blade through one's chest, ending its life and ducking under another swing, using the back blade to intercept the arm at the elbow. Twisting, she landed the killing blow with a spin and her blade parallel to the ground and was granted to the view of Brutis sliding across the dirt from a solid backhand.

Whether he was dead or not didn't much matter.

Trilla slashed diagonally at her next attacker, thinning the herd to one final adversary…but an influx in the Force reverberated, and the final crusher gained a burst of speed she never expected.

Its thick hide and tense muscles slammed into her, knocking out her hearing and dazing her momentarily. Without her helmet, she may have snapped her neck, and her hilt was far away from her hand by now. The pain that scorched her body from the intense assault was ravaging, but her instincts kicked in, fight or flight allowing her to move just fast enough to roll away from the overhead slamming of the crusher's fists into the ground.

Now she was pissed.

Flipping onto her feet, she unleashed a howling force push behind a pained scream, knocking her crazed attacker off balance long enough for her saber to reach her hand. Illuminating the night, the crimson met with blood as she fazed forward, cutting the beast down with a clean stroke.

The body crashed.

Trilla breathed…and fell to her knees. Her bones felt like they had been pricked by a thousand needles and breathing itself was painful. This show of weakness was detrimental to her hunt of this Jedi…who she _knew_ was watching, but she couldn't care less.

She felt like death.

Brutis groaned and rolled over, pulling a stim from his belt and administering it, letting out a relieving groan as the pain fleeted. Trilla had not been so prepared…never expecting to actually be _hurt_ during a hunt and found herself shivering as she forced herself to stand, desperately trying to ignore the pain altogether.

Pain made her _hate_…and hate made her powerful.

Her fist clenched as her instincts took root, and on the hilltop beside her, she spotted a woman…alien and horned, looking down from above.

_There you are._

Trilla's grip tightened around her hilt. "Interesting…but your deception will not save you…_Jedi_," she snarled, projecting her voice plenty loud enough to be heard. "There is no escape."

The Jedi said nothing, merely turning away and disappearing over the lip of the hill.

"Never seen a Jedi do this before," Brutis remarked, slinging his hammer over his shoulder, and standing close enough to Trilla to accurately display their height difference. "Fuck _me_."

Trilla ignored him, instinctually reaching down to her commlink to call for backup, but soon discovered it was broken beyond repair.

Not enough time.

"Move," she directed, and began to ascend the hill, fighting through every step that brought her closer and closer to vengeance…and no shortage of anguished screams.

* * *

The Jedi was long gone by the time they had reached the top of that hill, and after an hour of trail tracing, reaching out into the Force and going through every trick of the trade Trilla had under her belt, her prey was gone without a trace. No footprints even remained, no disturbance of the flora or landscape…not even the tall grasses that would surely leave a trail of whoever stalked through them.

All they found was a stray escaped prisoner who had absolutely nothing to tell, other than remain on his knees before Brutis, shouting curses while Trilla knelt, running her gloves through the dirt.

"Fuck you!" the prisoner exclaimed, earning a mocking scoff from the helmeted purge trooper.

"Those are your last words…_fuck you?_" he asked, looking down upon him. "Come on, you can do better."

He stammered, his eyes wide and flashing away for a moment, before returning. "C-cunt!"

Brutis almost snickered. "You're shit at dying, you know that?"

Trilla growled, swiping up dirt and tossing it aside as she rose to her feet. "If you're going to kill him, get on with it."

She heard a neck snap after she passed by, frustratingly looking over the landscape with crossed arms. The Jedi was still out there, she was sure of it…but there was nothing to follow but her fleeting instincts. Part of her envied the Seventh Sister's ability to track effortlessly, but she didn't have near the bladework prowess she did, nor the sense that she was being watched or followed.

"It's my fucking luck I get stuck out here with you…chasing a bloody ghost," Brutis grumbled as he came up beside her, waiting for her next move. "No offense, of course."

Trilla shook her head. "It's not the worst thing you've ever said to me."

It was pretty close…but that was because Brutis hardly said _anything_ to her, and she was perfectly fine with that.

"We should head back."

"We are _not_ heading back," Trilla almost snarled. "Not when I'm this close."

Brutis knew to trust her senses, but she could sense his distaste in how the effort had thus far transpired. "Those shit-for-brains back at the prison will never find us out here…and even if they did, it wouldn't be until after the fucking sun was back over our heads. We lost half our men from one attack, leaving just the two of us, and like it or not, you've always had a squad behind you when you take on your Jedi."

She clenched her fist at his audacity. "Not _once_ have they contributed to their deaths, and you best recall that it has always been _I_ who hunts, finds and _kills_ all of our targets…as well as what I do to those who defy my will."

Her threat lingered, but Brutis was smart enough to know it was empty…she would never in sound mind throw away her best asset…but that didn't mean she wouldn't hurt him.

"So far your will has lead us to this current outlook…quite fucking bare if you ask me," he presented with his hands. "Thanks to you, I'm a walking meat lure to whatever monstrosity lurks in these caves."

Trilla's teeth grit behind her helmet. "Consider your safety…_Commander_."

"There's no safety you dumb bi—"

The Inquisitor's danger sense electrified her spinal column, and her outreach into the Force saved both of their lives, propelling them in opposite directions as a massive boulder slammed into the dirt. Cartwheeling to her feet, Trilla ignited her blade…and locked eyes on her prey.

A red skinned zabrak…her facial bone structure so similar to one she had seen before that she almost tasted blood, holding back an animalistic snarl as she soon realized that that occurrence was impossible.

But her deep blue eyes…

"I believe you are lost, Inquisitor…" the Jedi said, one Trilla still did not have the name of. No record of her existed within the Jedi Archives, a most peculiar situation…

Like it would matter.

"A hunter is never lost, if they have found their prey," the Inquisitor retorted, pacing forward with her blade at her side. Her eyes darted to Brutis, but he had not returned to his feet…in fact he wasn't even _breathing_.

_Worthless._

"You should have listened to your friend," the Jedi warned, her tone calm, understanding with a hint of compassion. "I may be a Jedi, but I _will_ defend myself with extreme prejudice."

Trilla knew she had gone about this confrontation all wrong. She had no support assets, no element of surprise…not even a _shred_ of an idea of what this Jedi was capable of. These were all things she had done previously…but not this time.

This time, she would have to think on the fly.

"You're outmatched, Inquisitor," the zabrak pointed. "Turn back, while you still can."

Trilla let out a deep giggle. "You hide your fear well, Jedi. So…unfortunate. Beast control is such an enamoring power. Who taught you such a technique?"

The Jedi leaned forward. "I won't warn you again."

"Noted," Trilla sneered, and then zipped forward with a mere twitch of her toe, her blade cutting through the air as she barreled towards the Jedi with incredible speed. Her quarry spun and ducked, avoiding the attack entirely, leaving Trilla to skid to a halt and turn back, watching as the Jedi merely stood still, waiting for her next move.

_A game then…very well._

Most of her prey were slippery to catch, but this was a different approach. The Jedi did not seem terrified or…_anything_…

In fact, Trilla couldn't sense _any_ emotion from the Jedi…and even her presence was faint, almost distant. She'd heard of Force users being able to hide their presence and masking one's signature was a complex yet common practice…but she'd never experienced it at this level before.

No matter.

The Inquisitor attacked again, only to be hit with the same result and no retaliation, merely a stare back in her direction. She chuckled to herself, "You've certainly mastered the art of empty threats and fleeing for your life."

Her Jedi adversary said nothing…just staring…waiting.

Before Trilla attacked once more with her growing frustration, her eyes picked out a disturbance…or _lack thereof_ among the tall grass surrounding the Jedi's boots. She was standing before her, nearly absent within the Force, not leaving a trace or indent among the nature she stepped over…a plethora of events that didn't seem viable together.

Perhaps because they _weren't_.

Trilla tested her theory, slowly walking towards the Jedi, making no movement to attack. "You're rather confident for a woman with nowhere left to run."

The crimson skinned zabrak cocked her head. "The Dark Side blinds you…nothing could be further from the truth."

Trilla spat with a genuine level of distaste. "Tired, beaten Jedi rhetoric. Your order…is gone. They lacked the insight to change, and now they're dead…_all_ of them."

"And yet here we are," the Jedi countered. "The Light and Dark Sides of the Force are not unlike our current confrontation…two ideals caught in an endless dance with no visible signs of victory for either side. One, the light, maintains composure…keeps their defenses raised…and their vision unclouded."

The Inquisitor suffered her words, pointing her blade as she approached. "And the Dark?"

"The Dark…" the Jedi answered, letting her brow slant. "Fumbles in the night…chasing unattainable power…"

Trilla roared as she suddenly lunged, hitting pay dirt as her blade sunk into the Jedi…but she felt hollow…empty.

Realization struck as her blade was stuck in nothing more than a projection.

"…and phantoms they will never reach."

The Jedi lowered her head, and the projection disappeared, leaving Trilla alone to lower her hilt and extinguish the beam.

She was never there.

Oddly enough, Trilla was more impressed and intrigued than angry, knowing there were many positive notes to take from this encounter. Not only did she now have a facial imprint and an idea of _who_ she was after, she was far better off than she was a few minutes ago. Force Projection was a power that was used by Jedi skilled in stealth and deception, but it also required an intense amount of focus to make one talk and move life-like. Simulating events took even more…and if Trilla could accurately guess the zabrak's age, she couldn't be much younger than herself at this point. Her skill and focus could only stretch so far.

Meaning the Jedi _had_ to be nearby.

She paced over to Brutis, who was finally stirring, rising to his feet.

"Next time just tell me to jump," he pointed, still stumbling slightly.

"Get back to the prison. Call for support at these coordinates," Trilla demanded, and then turned on her heel, beginning her search.

Brutis grumbled. "If you're eaten alive, I'm not speaking at your funeral."

"_Go_," she reiterated, leaving him behind, and returning to work.

Not like anyone would _give_ her a funeral.

* * *

**TIE Interceptor, 16 BBY**

**Entering Belsavis**

It was too soon.

She had revealed herself too soon.

The First Sister's anger could never be felt by another inquisitor, as her mastery of the Force made her peers seem like utter mockeries of their craft. Serving as a former Sith Assassin had afforded her teachings the others could never _dream_ of, certainly not with how expendable they were perceived to be.

Valeria Eon never cared about the Inquisitorious or its mission…and even as a user of the Dark Side of the Force, she never cared much for the extermination of the Jedi. They were certainly flawed with their narrow and dogmatic view of the Force, but they merely required redirection…not _extermination_. Such waste of potential power was pointless, and while the Inquisitorious was a good first step, their methods left little to be desired with their product. Mindless, brainwashed shells could not think for themselves…could not learn or improve upon the teachings they were given.

A master was meant to train their student to surpass them…not remain subservient and utterly soulless…something her former master couldn't possibly understand.

Darth Sidious was a blight upon the glory of the Sith…a man trapped in the ancient and outdated ways that desperately needed change. The Force was not to be suppressed…it was to be embraced, commanded, _guided_ by its practitioners. Sith do not hide in the shadows, they relish in the spotlight, letting the galaxy know their true nature, true colors, and let it be the judge of one's worth.

One man could not craft his own.

For now, however, her issues were slightly simpler in relative terms, but as a mother, they were far more complicated than she was prepared for.

Today she may have to murder the Second Sister…but losing her could mean unhinging her son's passion, which desperately needed a focal point now more than ever. Xur Eon had drawn far too much attention to himself, and her continuing efforts to protect him were becoming more and more strenuous, especially with the mounting pressure of Darth Vader himself to procure results. They'd lost so many inquisitors to his blade that the disappointment was beginning to show with his training sessions, and while Valeria could certainly handle an angrier Sith Lord, the others could not.

The Second Sister suffered most for this failure…as if the Sith knew she retained some connection to the zabrak fugitive…

An interesting thought for another time.

It faded as soon as her interceptor hit the dirt, and she projected her raw power with an effortless float from within the cockpit and to the surface. Purge units were already prepared for her arrival, and characteristically, she did not even grace them with her gaze.

"Inquisitor…this is an unexpected pleasure," Commander Archer greeted, his name she managed to recall.

"You can do away with your frivolous pleasantries, Commander," Valeria retorted, continuing to pace towards the prison. "I am here about the other Inquisitor."

"Right, of course, ma'am. The Second Sister left with a small squad a few hours ago. One of the survivors returned requesting back up at specific coordinates," he reported, keeping in stride with her. "We were just about to head out."

Reinforcements…no…she needed to be alone for this.

"You will belay that request," she countermanded. "I will assist her alone. I believe this prison riot requires more of your immediate attention."

Archer hesitated, which made her growl in annoyance. "Inquisitor…with all due—"

"My decision is _final_, Commander," she almost snarled. "You will _remain here_."

His last bit of hesitation was minimal, but long enough to have her consider cutting him down, only to stay her blade once he responded. "As you wish, First Sister."

"Good, now leave me," she waved off, prodding him to return to his men, to which he complied quickly.

It was time to find the daughter she never knew…the twin sister her son had never seen.

Zahira Eon.

* * *

**Belsavis, 16 BBY**

**Ancient Rakata Vault Entrance**

Trial and error proved fruitful.

Trilla's boots echoed through the chamber as her HUD scanned the area, her crimson blade ignited and humming beside her. Her instincts had lead her here and tracing the projection's origin through the Force had lead her straight to an open vault not far from where she had been ambushed…the perfect location to find her Jedi skulking in the dark like the rat she was.

She could already taste the blood of her prey. This kill would be _hers_.

Still, she was wary. This Jedi had proven crafty and adept in the Force, meaning she could be here entirely by her own design, and the inquisitor was now only walking into her trap. Her pace was slow, calculated and attentive, watching every inch of the advanced technology that attested to the glory days of the Rakata Infinite Empire…a study for another time.

After passing through a few winding corridors, she entered a large chamber, whose lighting was minimal via light-blue glows from above.

_There._

A presence in the Force…distant yet close.

"Your tricks are impressive, Jedi…I am beginning to wonder if sparing you would be in our best interest…"

No response came in the immediate…but soon an echo reverberated around her in the voice of the Jedi.

"And your skills also impress me, inquisitor…" the Jedi said, Trilla desperately trying to cling to it, trace it to the source. "But they are wasted serving a master who has no respect for your own life…or appreciation for you as an individual."

Trilla let her mocking laugh be heard throughout the chamber as she continued to walk. "Do you intend to…_save me_, my dear?" she giggled. "Very well. Allow me to lay out what _I_ am here for."

Her words slithered from her mouth and through her vocabulator, letting her terrifying voice tarnish the chamber with its venom. "When I find you, I not going to kill you…I'm going to start with your fingers…then your knuckles, then your wrists. I am going to make you _suffer_, Jedi…I am going to make you cry…make you beg, and even after you beg me to end your suffering, I will continue with your elbows…your shoulders, your _knees_. Only when your will has been eroded to its most finite level will I release you from your pain…and by then…you will be _mine_.

"I'll have you fetching me calf…and calling me _mistress_…" she giggled with incredible sadistic pleasure.

The Jedi said nothing in response, and that's when Trilla knew she had finally gained the upper hand.

"Come Jedi…face your tormentor…face your _annihilation_."

Her presence faded…disappearing. Trilla stopped, holding her blade at the ready and expecting the Jedi to finally reveal herself.

Nothing…again.

Then…Trilla heard a bone-chilling howl…_multiple_ bone-chilling howls. The deep growl…the whistle between the massive front under-fang, and the yellow, glowing eyes.

_Anoobas._

Trilla activated her second blade and spun the hilt, trying to get her senses behind her hands…but there was no focus. She had let in too much rage, too much sadistic urge to have her calm, precise demeanor.

She would have to hate these beasts to death.

Dipping fully into the Dark Side, she projected her presence as threatening as possible, but with the Jedi's beast control holding them in place, they would not falter in fear. Their snarls continued against the continuous _whirr_ of her blades, and she did her best to listen…to feel the one stalking her…

Claws scraped against the floor.

Trilla whirled around and force pushed the first one away, while a precise roll avoided the leap of another anooba, its teeth snarling past her vocal receptors. Utilizing her speed, she zipped around, taking a chance to absorb her surroundings.

She counted four…no…_six_ anoobas stalking her, and their hunger in the Force was so potent it almost sent shivers down her spine. As far as predators go…they had similarities to her that were nearly uncanny. Not so much in appearance, but certainly in effect.

The inquisitor took a mental note of this encounter.

Grinding to a stop, she ended the spin of her blade, now far enough to see the small pack in its entirety. The lead anooba snarled and leapt towards her with its powerful legs, but a mere sidestep had it severed right down the middle while it collided into her superheated blade. Another missed, as she flicked her wrist upward, ending its life, until she felt a tug against her cape, making her stumble.

For the first time as an inquisitor…she was _startled_.

A fourth anooba took advantage of her distraction and latched its teeth onto her leg, sinking through the fabric and digging into her skin. Without her dense protection, it would've been far worse, but that did not mean it was painless. Anyone else would've screamed in pain, but not Trilla…not the Second Sister, who had certainly suffered far worse.

Annoyed more than distressed, she shook her leg, but it only clamped down harder, making her wince behind her helmet. Another had a grip on her cape, and with two others still prowling, she had to act fast.

Unhinging her cape with her free hand, she regained her balance and bisected the creature on her leg, finally free of it all. She grunted as she put weight on the injured leg, and before long she was tackled, losing her hilt as she hit the ground, and the last thing her HUD saw was the anooba's jaws clamping down on her helmet.

_Now_ she was pissed.

Headbutting with the broken armor, she tore it off and pushed off the anooba, using it as a shield. Clean air rushed across her face as her hilt was back in her hand, and a quick faze had her avoid the next attack, cutting down a fourth anooba, before tossing her blade to kill the fifth, and a grabbed ahold of the sixth beast with an outstretched hand. The cool air kissed her skin as she closed her fist, snapping its neck, and catching her returning hilt.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blinding yellow light, before pure agony tore through her essence. Lightning scorched her body before the attack ceased, and Trilla collapsed, her breathing so hoarse anyone untrained in the medical field would think she was on the verge of death. With grit teeth, she fought her spasming muscles and looked up…her Jedi quarry's hand still sparking with gold energy as she lowered it.

_Electric Judgment._

That…that was a power Jedi had been _forbidden_ to use, and yet her limbs were still numb from its power.

_Who ARE you?!_

Trilla slowly clambered to her feet as the Jedi watched her with patient caution, her saber hilt held unlit in her right hand. The inquisitor was far from finished, but her body was far behind her mind by now, still reawakening from the Jedi's scorching attack.

She needed time, and this Jedi was foolish enough to grant it to her.

"Who…" Trilla almost fainted but kept her vision straight. "Who taught you this…Jedi?"

The Jedi let her brow slant once more but made no move to attack her. "Someone far beyond even your master's power."

_You know nothing…girl._

"This fight is over, Inquisitor," she declared. "Lay down your lightsaber. There is no need for you to die today."

Trilla growled, angrier that the woman wouldn't just kill her already.

Then, her numbness faded, _at last_, and her grip tightened around her hilt.

Crimson flashed.

Yellow followed.

"I think not," Trilla sneered, her strength replenished by the Dark Side of the Force, before she fazed forward, and their blades clashed in the middle. Immediately Trilla knew she had the upper hand, her adversary's saber movements slow…refined…but not fast enough to keep up with her precise cuts and slashes. Quickly, Trilla forced her off balance, sweeping her legs out from under her, landing on her back with a yelp. Aiming for her shoulder, and not the killing blow, Trilla plunged her blade into the ground as the Jedi rolled away, but the inquisitor predicted this, dragging her blade to nick her knee just enough.

Her shrill in agony made Trilla smile.

"Not very impressive with that blade, are you?" she giggled with snark contempt. "You can't win…_accept it_."

Despite the injury, the Jedi cartwheeled back to her feet, but her stance was lopsided, favoring her one good knee over the bad one. Her posture was pitiful, and adjustments not even proper for a Padawan.

A realization hit.

"Dantooine…" Trilla said, which struck a cord in the Jedi, startling her expression at last. "You were trained on _Dantooine_. You're a healer…not a fighter."

It explained all the smoke and mirrors instead of the raw combat. This Jedi had no intention of facing her, because she _knew_ she would be no match if it came down to bladework.

Trilla engaged again, and through their exchange, the Jedi suffered a shoulder mark, almost making her scream from how deep it had dug in, and the inquisitor took her chance to reach out and slam her body against the nearby pillar. Pinned, she lost her blade from the impact, and looked upon Trilla with all the fear she could ever want.

She could not _wait_ to begin on her.

Why wait?

Trilla slowly marched forward, holding her blade straight out as she kept the Jedi pinned, letting its hum of anticipation pull sweat from her victim's face. She shivered in terror, waiting for the crimson to sear her skin…to burn away at her insides.

"This is only a taste of what's to come…_Jedi_," Trilla promised, her eyes savage as she drank in the woman's fear. It was so potent…so plentiful…so…

_Superficial._

By then, it was too late.

Trilla felt her intestines sever and burn away as a yellow beam protruded from her body, leaving her gasping in silence against the terrible pain that ravaged her fatal wound. The Jedi dropped to her knees, as did her hilt as it deactivated, rattling against the floor after being levitated behind her. Trilla collapsed onto the floor, the black oblivion already consuming her vision…before a wave of healing relief cleansed her wound…and the oblivion took her.

* * *

When Trilla's eyes reopened, she wondered if this was where her soul had been taken to suffer for eternity, but to her genuine surprise, she had awoken exactly where she had remembered remaining…exactly where she was certain her life had finally been snuffed out.

And she was _not_ alone.

On instinct, she reached for her hilt and felt it rattle and tear through the air to her hand, but it suddenly changed direction and clapped into another standing above her. Stunned, she looked up, and spotted the two round, crimson optics of the lean First Sister, leaving Trilla with an expression of raw distain on her face.

"Where is the Jedi?!" she demanded, vaulting to her feet, only to be shoved back onto her rear with a mere wave of her counterpart's hand.

"Far from your reach," she promised, now kneeling to her level. "You failed."

Trilla shook her head, groaning as other injuries made themselves known, especially to her leg where the anooba latched its jaws onto her. "A hunt never ends with the first encounter. I _will_ find her again…and I _will_—"  
"You will _never_ touch her again," the First Sister assured. "You won't even remember she exists."

The Second Sister blinked. "What?"

Her counterpart stared for a moment, before pulling over her hood and removing her mask, revealing the face of a tattooed zabrak female, middle-aged with blue-yellow eyes…almost an exact resemblance of the Jedi she had just fought…

_No…not just her._

Him.

Valeria Eon smiled. "Yes…you were always a clever girl, but your vision was always far too clouded for you to see the truth."

Trilla's chin shivered. "I _will_ find him. He _will_ die…and I'll make you _watch_."

"I will watch nothing but your blissful ignorance as you flounder in the dark. You are lucky. My daughter was far too kind-hearted to leave you to die, so she preserved your life just before leaving here, escaping to a place far out of the Empire's reach. She is safe from you…and you needn't worry about my son," she confirmed, without consideration of denial. "You will not find him.

"_He_ will find _you_."

Trilla's rage blossomed as she moved to rise again, but Valeria's hand shot out, engulfing her mind in a sinister cloud, and purging memories she would never regain.

And yet…one name remained locked away…waiting for the right moment.

_Zahira_.

* * *

**12 BBY – Teth**

Trilla's head swayed with exhaustion behind her helmet. She had Rava had covered so many miles by now, she had lost count, and her emotional toll was beginning to wear her down. Pursuing Katara would never let her stop…her mind anyway, but after a 24-hour march, it was beginning to prove too much.

She hit the dirt in a heap, her muscles refusing to obey her commands, and her eyes already forcing themselves shut on cue. Rava exclaimed in worry, falling to one knee, but no bacta could cure her desperate need for sleep.

"Trilla…oh my…your exhaustion levels are far too high," Rava relayed, and Trilla would've called that out as obvious if she could still speak. "You need to rest."

Trilla couldn't muster any other word than a desperate cry from a grieving mother. "_Katara…_"

She missed her so much…and she was beginning to think she would never get her back.

As she began to fade into a state of sleep, there was an exchange beside her, a slight shuffle and confirmation that most likely took much longer than she was able to perceive…and before long, she awoke without her helmet, and to the face of a female zabrak who looked all to familiar to the man she married.

"Who…?" Trilla asked, still struggling, and the woman gently held her down.

"You're going to be alright, Trilla, I promise," she said, her accented voice so gentle, she was almost jealous.

"My name is Zahira…and I'm here to help."

* * *

**Long wait, I know. Been busy. I've got no excuse. Hopefully, you enjoyed this one! No promises, but I think the next one will come in soon. Trying to get back on track with this one…**

** Let me know what you think! Reviews are always a joy to see. They truly make my day. Thanks for reading!**


	44. Wrath of the Protector

**Wrath of the Protector**

"Joy is always far more worthwhile than pleasure."

**12 BBY – Teth**

_Mama?_

_ My…my daughter…I…I failed you…_

_ Mama!_

_ KATARA!_

Trilla heaved as she awoke violently, her inhale squeezing her lungs of all traces of air, resulting in a shriek of terror that made avian wildlife flutter and flee the scene in a hurry. The terror that came with her vision lingered, and she nearly screamed in horror again, but a cold, synthetic grip on her arms pulled her attention towards the source.

"…let me go!" Trilla tried to free herself, but the grip maintained.

"Trilla! Trilla, it's me…" Rava eased, and Trilla noticed this as she looked up, her breaths of restoration continuing as they slowed, her mind picking up the scattered pieces of her focus. In time, she lowered her head, letting her false hand grip Rava's arm for support, and she continued to breathe.

"Rava…what…what happened?" she asked, and then remembered why she had come here in the first place. "Why aren't we moving?!"

She tried to force herself to stand, but Rava held her in place, shaking her head. "Trilla, it's alright! I have a fix on Katara…I just needed to…" her android eyes panned downwards, and Trilla had never witnessed so much life in her synthetic companion. It was…beautiful…and there was a faint whisper of emotion within the Force itself…even for an artificial construction. Rava was conflicted…a little sad…but instilled with a renewed confidence in herself.

"…just needed to find yourself," Trilla finished for her, and then let her head droop. "Rava…I'm so sorry about what I said—"

"Don't worry about it, please," Rava insisted, taking a knee. "What matters now, is that we're going to get your daughter back…I _promise_."

Trilla nodded, taking another deep breath to center herself, calling back to even some of her Jedi teachings to do so. She almost shivered from her conditioning relapse, but her mind…_fought_ _it off_. Confused, she grasped her forehead, realizing her prosthetic forearm was exposed, uncovered by her gauntlet and glove.

Then she felt a presence, and Rava seemed to notice.

"This is Zahira," she pointed, and Trilla turned. "She's a Jedi…she saved you."

She blinked for a moment, hardly able to register Rava's seemingly impossible sentence, before fully regarding the complete stranger standing not far from where she lay on the dirt. The Jedi was a zabrak, crimson skinned with the staple black tattoos covering her eyelids, lining her cheek bones and shoring up her chin. Her lips were lined with some sort of dark makeup, while her black hair almost concealed her horns as it was pulled back behind her head and tied.

This Zahira…well…she was beautiful, and certainly more in a complimentary fashion through Trilla's eyes. Her mind, however, was oddly blank upon seeing her face…as if she could not find the words to react to her. There was no conversational foundation, no basic beginning. It was as if she had forgotten how to speak entirely.

But her name…her name was so _familiar_, and yet it felt like she was reaching for something many parsecs from her grip.

Zahira seemed to take note of her distress, and knelt before her, the expression she gave so warm…so comforting, and her voice was like resting in a sanisteam for hours on end, letting the warm water cascade off her skin.

"Take it easy…you might be a little disoriented. You were suffering from almost severe dehydration, so I had to keep you out of commission for a few hours," Zahira said, her accent almost on par with hers, albeit maintaining a hint of the dathomiri dialect with a plethora of certain words. "It's alright. There's nothing to fear. I'm here to help this time."

Trilla furrowed her brow in confusion, fetching her gauntlet casted aside. "Whatever do you mean by that?"

Zahira blinked, cocking her head before letting out a slight giggle. "Trilla…we've met. It wasn't exactly friendly…but…" she trailed off, hoping Trilla would fill in the blanks, but the brunette merely shook her head.

"Listen…_Zahira_…I appreciate what you've done, but I literally have no idea what you're talking about."

Zahira's eyes narrowed, and she seemed to fall into thought for a moment…and that was when Trilla almost reared back. Every time this woman spoke, she saw a faint resemblance through the blue eyes, facial construction and hair color of someone she _did_ know.

"Have you ever been to Belsavis?" she asked, and Trilla's though process trailed off for now. "Imperial prison world?"

Yes, she had been to Belsavis as the Second Sister, but the mission had been a failure. The Jedi she had been chasing had already been confirmed to be long gone, and it was placed as a lack of due diligence from the ISB.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more holes in logic she found, but there was nothing there…no memories to pull from.

Trilla just nodded. "Yes…but I don't remember finding you there. Were _you_ our target? We had little to no information…in fact the Jedi we were chasing wasn't present in the Imperial network," she mused, piecing things together. "All I remember was that we came up empty."

Zahira smiled at that, and the resemblance was beginning to drive Trilla insane. "That part isn't untrue."

Trilla grimaced. "Do…do I know you? And…why do you look like my husband?"

The Jedi didn't know how to react and had a rather silly look on her face. "Excuse me?"

Rava let out a sigh of relief. "Oh good. I'm not crazy."

"I don't understand," Zahira questioned again. "Perhaps if you could tell me who you are referring to…then maybe…"

Rava shrugged. "Ever heard of Xur Eon?"

Much to Trilla's surprise, Zahira's expression flashed with anger and she rose to her full, impressive height, taller than both her and Rava…and perhaps Xur as well. "That man is an affront to everything the Jedi stand for!" she spat; her distaste vehemently projected in the Force. "How _dare _y—"

Zahira seemed to catch herself as her face softened, and just in time, as Trilla was on the verge of viciously defending her husband, even if she was…_slightly_ upset with him currently. His solo adventures were a deep pet peeve of hers, and she had kept them to herself for longer than she believed healthy…but she understood why he did what he did.

That didn't mean she had to like it, but that _doesn't_ mean she would allow someone to slander his name with venomous ferocity.

The zabrak breathed, closing her eyes as she recited the words, "There is no emotion, there is peace."

_One of _those_ Jedi._

Trilla could debate that incredibly flawed line of the Jedi code for hours, but they needed to get moving again…and Katara was only slipping further from her grasp.

She growled slightly, waving it off as she rose to her feet, pulling her glove over her false hand. "Forget it. If you're going to be a good Jedi and help us, then I'm content with that…but just keep your Jedi blabbering to yourself, please."

Zahira seemed mildly offended, but she kept it to herself, just nodding. "As you say. I would like to help you, if you'll have me. I've been able to track your thief using the echoes in the Force through the objects she's touched. I was telling your friend while you were asleep that she's a young chiss woman, Imperial special forces…but they seemed to be…_caring_ for your daughter."

Trilla's distrust piqued for a moment. She didn't fully trust Zahira…in fact she truly didn't trust her at all, but she felt keeping her closer would be a safer bet than sending her away.

_Friends close and enemies closer._

"So you have psychometry?" she asked, feeling her helmet clap into her hand as she gestured below, but hesitated before sliding it back on.

Zahira's eyes darted away for a moment. "Yes…I can _see_ what has transpired through the—"

"I know what it is," Trilla answered, perhaps a bit harsher than necessary. "I spent months chasing a child who could do that."

Rava held in a snort of laughter…or something along those lines, since she didn't have a nose to breathe through. "_A child_…" she quietly chuckled.

"I can't tell if you're joking, or if you're being serious…" Zahira trailed off, but then seemed to come to the conclusion that it didn't matter. "Anyhow, there hasn't been any Imperial presence on Teth thus far, so I suggest we hurry."

Trilla nodded slightly, and then slid over her helmet, tipping her head to Rava. "You said you had a fix."

Rava nodded. "Her armor contains an alloy not found on this planet, something only I can track. She's just a few miles ahead, and only recently started moving again."

"Transmit the data to my HUD," Trilla directed. "And let's get my daughter back."

* * *

The physical taxation weighing upon Nerah as she climbed the cliffside with Katara's pod slung over her back to her extraction point pulled at her tired arms as she lifted herself up to each handhold. Her legs felt like liquid, almost dangling with each step as she forced herself to continue, her muscles screaming a protesting for a chance to rest themselves…but the natural feeling of being followed kept her moving. Failure of this mission was not an option in her eyes…in fact failure for _any_ mission was inexcusable, unless, as Thrawn pressed, an advantage for a second engagement was gained, or valuable intelligence was gathered.

The only intelligence she'd gathered thus far was that babies cry a lot and smell like shit. At first, Katara was a nice little positive bonus to her precarious situation, but by now, only her guilt was stopping her from dropping the baby from the side of the cliff. As far as assignments go, this had been by far her worst under the Empire, and she would personally protest to Thrawn the reality of this kind of excursion…as well as the blindside she had been given.

Still, she would complete her directive.

Her foot slipped, and she emitted a slight yelp in surprise as she grasped ahold of an outcrop in the cliff face, the raw pain ravaging her legs almost unbearable by now. The sudden movement startled Katara, and she began to cry, making Nerah growl with intense frustration as she heaved herself up to that outcropping for a rest. She almost screamed from the sting that worked its way through her hands, collapsing onto her face on the rocky surface.

Katara's shrills of terror eventually bothered her enough that she rolled over, pulling the pod from her back and setting it aside. To her luck, the outcropping was plenty large enough for her to sit down and have the pod in no danger of falling over the edge.

She'd been at a constant pace around the clock, before taking a 3-hour rest and starting again, which was beginning to push the limits of her natural body's ability to continue…but the mental toll was the most devastating. Questioning the point of the entire operation had dragged her productivity, making her feel aimless and indifferent to its outcome.

What good is a random child to the Empire?

She'd been so focused on moving that she'd never had time to ponder the notion, and perhaps now she would be able to give it a thought. Thrawn would never waste resources without reason, and while going after Suduri wasn't a surprise, it was the fact that she even _had_ a child that was baffling her. Why would a terrorist steal one in the first place? Nerah struggled to comprehend the mind of the woman of focus, an anarchist with no sense of law or order, hoping to only spread chaos and destruction across the Empire.

Nerah could only imagine what she was doing to this child…most likely running experiments with horrible long-term consequences, brainwashing her into a mindless slave seeking only to destroy the galactic harmony brought about by the Empire.

Finally with her breath under control, Nerah opened the capsule, taking note of where she had saddled in Katara for the climb. The girl was still crying, and quickly Nerah noticed the rope burn on the child's waist, making her crimson eyes bulge with guilt. Swiftly, she untied and removed the strap, allowing the child to move freely again

"_Ohhh_, I'm sorry," Nerah said, but then plugged her nose as a rancid stink waivered towards her. Revolted, she pulled back, and by then she knew she needed to wrap this mission up quickly, and she could feed the child all she wanted, but cleaning her up would waste valuable time…and she didn't want her to remain so uncomfortable.

It was only then that Nerah pondered the oddness of the infant's red skin, which was what convinced her in the beginning that she had been stolen. Humans weren't known to have a skin color so deep as that, and it made her curious…because this child _had_ to be human.

A small scan from her MAHI couldn't hurt.

Pulling up the gauntlet interface, Nerah let the red hologram run its course, and eventually information popped up on the screen. The child had a genetic structure most similar to a Dathomirian but was missing the pale white skin that usually came with the kind. The red skin was explained by her zabrak origins, but the lack of cranial horns backed up the readings she was getting.

Trying to run a cross check against known galactic citizens, she was denied as her signal was still being actively jammed.

"_Mama…_" Katara whimpered. "…_Mama_…mad."

Nerah narrowed her eyes, and scooted back over her, used to the smell by now. "Katara…who's your Mama?"

Katara sniffled, opening her eyes. "Scary lady."

The chiss chuckled a bit. "Sweetheart, I'm trying to save you from the scary lady."

The infant pouted. "Mama…not scary. Mama good."

"Katara…who _is_ your Mama?" she asked, feeling a hint of frustration work its way through her mind, but then pulled up a picture of the terrorist Suduri, showing it to her.

Her eyes widened, and she pointed. "Mama…"

_No…that's not possible._

Nerah shook her head, pulling the image away. "That is not your Mama!" she denied. "Katara she can't be your Mama!"

The infant shrieked, louder than ever before. "_Mama!_"

Nerah jolted in surprise, shutting the capsule, but by then, she had discovered far too late the reason for Katara's outburst. It was like a black blur blotting out the sun, a phantom rising from the earth as Nerah felt herself pinned against the rock surface, a knee jammed into her neck. Once the blur finally materialized, she saw the black helmet and purple slit she remembered from Onderon. Her yellow blade hummed with menace as she held the tip over her head.

"You…you are going to suffer _endlessly_ for stealing my _daughter!_" Trilla roared behind her helmet, pressing her knee into Nerah's neck.

Adrenaline poured into her veins as the super soldier made use of her name, pushing Trilla's leg clean off with only her upper body strength, and then tumbled over the edge with the woman, engaging her repulsor boots before they both landed roughly on the grassy surface below. Rolling over, Nerah quickly drew her blaster and fired a dozen bolts Trilla's way, but her spinning blade kicked into gear to ward them all off just in time.

"Grab her!" Trilla shouted, just as her synthetic companion appeared, and the droid was already ascending the cliff with mechanical precision, while Nerah grit her teeth. Raising her wrist, she fired a focused sonic blast that tore out part of the rock face, and the droid stumbled and fell, landing with the cascade of rocks.

"I won't let you hurt her!" Nerah declared, and then fired the sonic blasts towards Trilla, who deactivated her blade and zipped out of the way, before advancing atop Nerah in a fraction of a second, far too fast for her eyes to track. Hands were wrapped around her neck, one certainly mechanical as it closed her windpipe, blocking air from entering her lungs. She tried to tear her wrists free of her neck, but Trilla's own strength was enhanced by a force unknown to her, and Nerah could only fail to gasp at the unbreakable grip.

"And I'm going to _kill you!_" Trilla screamed, closing her grip, just as Nerah's vision started to tunnel…and the last thing she ever saw was the blank, covered stare of an expressionless helmet that broiled hot, intense anger within…and only then did she realize why.

This ferocity…this savagery…it was instinct, not lack of sophistication or civilization. Suduri wasn't trying to kill her out of bloodlust…but protection, primitive and primal protection of her offspring. With that realization, Nerah almost allowed herself to die then, a pang of guilt rising and fading in an instant before her own self-preservation instincts kicked in, and she could feel her muscles pulling for a last-effort heave.

"Trilla!" another voice entered the scene, and Nerah felt the grip on her neck soften just enough to grant her a slight gasp of air. "Trilla, don't give in to hate…"

"Stay out of this!" she snarled back, and tightened her grip again, turning Nerah's lips bluer than they already were.

"Trilla, please let her go," Nerah spotted the woman kneeling beside her, her red skin similar to Katara's, but the horns and ceremonial tattoos giving her away as zabrak. "This isn't who you are."

"What do you know?!" Trilla roared back, her focus still on Nerah. "Just shut up!"

"I know what you used to be…I know what you did…but I also know what you're struggling with," the woman continued, pulling at her arm. "We all feel that pull from the Dark Side…but it doesn't control you unless you _let it_."

Whatever she was getting at, Nerah hoped it worked, because she only had a few seconds left before she was a dead woman.

Trilla hesitated, and Nerah felt her grip loosen just a moment.

"You have your daughter…now leave it be," the woman continued.

Nerah's body seized as it forced itself to gasp for air, and that was when Trilla finally released her, and she felt the pained needling sensation of air rushing into her empty lungs, and her consciousness fading in and out. She rolled over and coughed, only to have her face pressed into the dirt, and her arms latched together with cuffs.

"Don't try to overpower _me_," the synthetic replied, to which she recalled was named 'Rava', just as she was pulled to her feet and sat down against a tree, with a rifle pointed at her head. "You organics never learn that servos can match whatever you can scrape up, super solider or not."

Nerah couldn't even retort. Her throat hurt just to move her head, and breathing brought pain with each fluctuation, not to mention her already extensive exhaustion.

Trilla was approaching the capsule that Rava had left for her, and she was almost afraid to even look…afraid to find her silent daughter dead before her eyes. Tearing off her helmet, she bypassed the hesitation and opened the container…finding the shivering a pouting form of Katara Eon…her infant daughter.

She didn't care how bad she smelled, Trilla's tears poured down her face as she scooped her into her arms, almost crushing her in a death drip.

"_Katara…_" she whimpered, falling to her knees as she held the sniveling child. "I'm here…mommy is here…"

"Mama…" Katara cried. "I was scared Mama…"

"_Shhh_, oh I know, baby girl. It's okay now…it's okay…I'm never letting you out of my sight again. I promise."

_Never._

* * *

Zahira was glad she had found Trilla when she did, acting off an anonymous tip from one calling themselves "Fulcrum". She'd been tracking the woman she'd battled on Belsavis for years, and it was a welcome surprise to find her already free of the Empire's dogmatic control. Her having a daughter was even more surprising, and Zahira began to wonder if her influence had a much greater effect than she had expected.

However, she'd be naïve to think this was entirely her doing, especially with the fact that Trilla could not remember her at all, which she figured was part of her Imperial conditioning of sorts. Why they would wipe her mind clean instead of just killing her was another mystery…one that they could perhaps solve together…if Trilla was actually starting to _like_ her.

Judging by what had just occurred, she imagined the opposite.

Trilla was busy doing her best to clean Katara as well as she could, while also feeding her with what she had. Zahria and Rava had resulted to interrogating their chiss kidnapper, one certainly of Imperial special forces. While Zahira had never seen a chiss before, she'd heard of them, as well as their strict military tradition. Her Basic was influenced entirely by a Coruscanti dialect, although heavily accented with some words, somewhat similar to her own but far less refined.

Her synthetic friend, honestly, was the more baffling of the two.

"Look, red eyes, I understand why you would decide not to be talkative but believe me…we're not the good-natured heroes all the holovids portray Jedi to be…well, the ones without Imperial propaganda," Rava remarked.

Nerah scoffed. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

Rava shook her head. "No…" before pressing the control on her wrist that stunned Nerah with a jolt of electricity from her stun cuffs, making her gasp. "…just wanted you to be aware."

Zahira grimaced. There were better ways to extract information, one that benefitted both parties without expelling someone's dignity…and as far as she cared, those that tortured suffered from a lack of imagination.

"Let's relax on that, shall we?" Zahira asked, easing Rava. "No reason why we can't all get what we want."

The chiss spat in disgust. "I don't negotiate with terrorists."

Rava shrugged, reaching for her wrist. "Oh well."

"Enough!" Zahira stopped her with a raised hand, and then fell to one knee. "Look. Consider your position. You stole a child from its mother, and now we'd like to know why, that's all," she said, and couldn't help but notice Nerah's flash of guilt in the Force, even if her emotions were very well concealed. "You'll be free to go."

"Says who?" Rava chimed in, making Zahira grind her teeth together. "Trilla has suffered much at the hands of the Empire, and I'll be dammed if we let it continue."

"She's a traitor," Nerah growled. "So is your precious Admiral. Do you have any idea what they've done to people who merely had bloody _lunch_ with her? Subversive cowards do not deserve mercy, or my pity!"

"No one is asking for your pity, little girl," Rava spat with contempt. "Frankly, I'm perfectly content with killing you here and now."

Katara shrieked from behind, "Bad!" before Trilla hushed her and continued to wipe the muck from her skin.

Rava's eyes piqued, and Zahira couldn't help but detect the protest from Katara had meaning, especially after the threat towards Nerah. Recalling to what she saw via the echoes in the Force, Nerah had been caring for Katara in a way none of them expected, and while it was difficult to comprehend why…the zabrak had a thought.

"You had no idea you were stealing a child, did you?" Zahira asked.

_There_ it was. Nerah's eyes panned down for a moment, and no response came, telling her virtually all she needed to know. Rava seemed to catch on and pointed her weapon towards the chiss in a non-malicious manner, only to hear Katara shriek again.

Nerah shook her head. "No, I didn't…and I didn't hurt her."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that you stole her in the first place," Rava spat.

"Do you honestly think I care about your forgiveness?" Nerah incredulously remarked, her brow slanted and eyes tinting redder than before. "The three of you can _bsotah can En'kar_ for all I care! You want to know what I'm sorry for? I'm sorry Katara was born to a terrorist slut and not a decent law-abiding woman!"

Rava growled and shocked her again, even against Zahira's protests, and that's when Katara began to sob profusely…leading to Trilla's bellowing response, "Rava! Leave it be!"

It became apparent quite quickly that Rava was innately unwilling to deny an order from Trilla herself, as the shock treatment immediately ended, and the synthetic drooped her head like a child that had been reprimanded by its parent. Zahira had to wonder if she had been programmed as such, but that thought seemed improbable, as the advancement of Rava was far beyond any droid…no…any _construction_ she had ever before seen. She was so lifelike, so articulate that sometimes Zahira mistook her for a human being…not like the distinction truly mattered.

Zahira's attention returned to the chiss, whose breathing had her chest fluctuating noticeably as she tried to shake her ruffled hair back into place. While she didn't approve of Nerah's derogatory language, that didn't mean she deserved to be tortured for it, and she was glad Trilla had stepped in before _she_ had to, as Rava had no reason to listen to her in the slightest, and Force suggestions were virtually useless against a synthetic brain. It was obvious Nerah had no intention of cooperating however, and she couldn't help but notice the woman's confidence with her situation. It did seem odd that a lone Imperial had…come alone, as the Empire never shied away from a show of force in a precarious situation. While Teth still remaining in Hutt space certainly played into the equation, Nerah was now staring at two Jedi and a Force-sensitive young girl, three things that would give the Empire plenty reason to breach foreign space with a fleet strong enough to subdue them all.

Rava said they had jammed communications from the _Fury_, but with both her and Trilla's emotional state…she couldn't discount the possibility of a slip up while they had pursued Katara.

Zahira returned to her less imposing kneeling stance, regarding the irritated woman who let her crimson consumed irises lie on her.

"Katara seems to not want you hurt…" Zahira noted. "Would you like to explain how that came to be?"

Nerah only seemed to "like" to be let go. "I already told you the answer to that question."

"You told us that you didn't hurt her…but you didn't tell us _why_," Zahira pointed out, and Nerah only shrugged disinterestedly.

"Would _you_ want to hurt an infant?"

"No," Zahira shook her head. "But I'm not you."

The chiss said nothing, letting her gaze drift over to where Trilla was finishing with Katara, the little girl finally sounding calm in the care of her mother. Zahira sensed a moment of relief that was quickly masked with annoyance and dread, which told her that the woman was at least somewhat conflicted about her task. Why she would be sent instead of an inquisitor to kidnap a force sensitive child had the zabrak inquiring that this could be a preemptive setup, or some kind of test for Nerah. Perhaps there were questions about her loyalty, or her ability to…

_Interesting._

"How many inquisitors are left?" Zahira asked, chasing the thought.

Nerah shrugged. "No idea."

That told her a lot more than the chiss may believe, and the fact that she said that so nonchalantly, especially without a hint of contempt, certainly upped its chances of being the truth. If Nerah, a special forces operative, had no idea, then she could assume she'd hardly seen one, and Zahira was aware of the events on Nur and the destruction of the Fortress.

_They're trying to replace them._

It was all a theory for now, but she'd pocket it.

Zahira rose to her feet and took a slight bow. "Thank you Nerah, you've been most helpful."

The chiss narrowed her eyes but seemed to dismiss it. "Whatever."

She had hoped to make her adversary paranoid with the sense that she had divulged something important, but it didn't seem to take root. Still, Nerah was good with hiding her emotions, and it was possible it _had_ worked, and she just didn't know it.

Rava assumed tireless watch duties as Zahira paced to Trilla, seeming to finally get her daughter comfortable enough to sleep. The woman's eyes looked sullen and heavy, her face covered with streaks of eye shadow and cheek blush, while her hair hung in various directions, somewhat matted and pressed down upon her head, thanks to her helmet. In the Force she felt ravaged…conflicted, and yet relieved in a sense. She wasn't naïve enough to think this was over, and neither was Zahira, but she knew taking this chance to recuperate herself was smart.

The zabrak could only imagine the pain of having her child taken from her, and while it wasn't pity that had urged Zahira, it was…sorrow. Looking at Katara, Zahira felt a distinct connection in the Force between herself and the child, one of…_blood?_

She blinked but shook off the idea. Now was not the time for such questions, not with Trilla in a disparaging state. Instead Zahira reached out and grasped Trilla's shoulder, a gesture that she seemed too exhausted to deny.

"You said I know you," Trilla recalled, her gaze fixed on Katara as the infant slept. "But why can I not remember your face?"

Zahira didn't have the answer to that, and she would need more time to observe the woman's mind for any missing memories. It wasn't an unheard-of occurrence, but Zahira couldn't comprehend why that would be necessary. The Empire wouldn't want to have their hunters forget their targets, so it became increasingly more likely that it was all to benefit the Jedi…but who would have the power to execute such a thing?

"I don't know, Trilla. Maybe someone who was trying to protect me," she figured, informing Trilla of her thought process.

The former inquisitor turned, her expression observant as she let her eyes dance over the zabrak's features. The moment had its awkwardness, but it faded in time, just as Trilla sighed and looked away.

"Valeria," she half-growled, her emerald eyes sky bound. "Ah…of course."

Zahira flashed her a puzzled look. "Valeria?"

Trilla snorted. "She's technically my mother in law…but she's the only one who could've slighted such a devious little plot. I'm not entirely certain…but I'm _fairly_."

The zabrak grimaced, still confused, until Trilla regarded her again.

"And you look _precisely_ like her son…just more feminine…I suppose," she scrunched her brow.

Zahira blinked. Her…a family? She had no memory of her family, and as far as she was aware, she had none, and the Jedi was all she had ever known before Order 66. Even then, Order 66 didn't reach Dantooine until some time after it had been issued, giving her time to escape and scatter with the others. She'd been on the run ever since but had been able to hide herself from the Empire with her extensive knowledge of manipulating the Force around those that sought after her, and hardly ever had to raise her lightsaber against them.

And yet, she had always thought there was someone else watching over her from the shadows, but she never had any proof, or reason to actually believe so. She figured it had been Master Yoda…but maybe…

She had always sensed someone out there…a presence…a familiar one not unlike her own.

"I think I need to meet your husband," Zahira figured.

Trilla thought on it for a moment, before turning back to Katara and shutting her pod. She still didn't fully trust Zahira, and she had no reason to, but she couldn't deny her aura…as well as the similarities she presented…and the echoes of familiarity in her mind.

"Perhaps. Rava, call in the _Fury_. We're leaving this disgusting slime pit."

* * *

Within ten minutes, the _Fury_ was coming in for an automated landing in a forest clearing not far from where Katara had been reclaimed, and Trilla had not let relief flood her essence just yet. While black operations were easy to disavow by the Empire, it was quite obvious that they had sunk many resources into Nerah's training and upbringing into their special forces…meaning they would not so quickly abandon her on a whim. The intrepid Agent Elena Markov also seemed to bear an emotional attachment to her, thus further pressing the point that it was only a matter of time until they were ambushed by Imperial retaliation, Hutt space or not.

All the more reason to get Katara's pod aboard as fast as possible.

She stomped up the ramp, pushing along the floating pod to Katara's designated room and secured it, strapping it to the side wall aperture as used for takeoff…only to find that it had been broken when Nerah had barged in. Feeling hot, rising anger, Trilla growled to herself and slammed her metal fist into the side wall, denting the durasteel just as Rava checked in.

"Trilla…" she half-eased.

"Get us moving," Trilla demanded, activating the magnetic belly of the capsule, watching it snare itself onto the floor. "_Now_."

"Trilla," Rava grasped her forearm, making her pause with an admonishing look. She had no patience to be questioned, not now, and Rava was perhaps one of only two beings in the galaxy who could administer such a pause from her in her current state. "We have company."

Those words made her freeze in place, and only after a moment did she finally blink. "Who?"

"Imperial warship above Teth. Gunships inbound," Rava reported. "If we take off now, we'll be shot down."

"Nonsense, this ship is faster than anything they have access to—"

"They'll be above us in three minutes," Rava shook her head. "I suggest you prepare yourself. I will look after Katara," she reached, only to have Trilla grasp her wrist.

"Just like before…when she was _captured?_" Trilla scoffed incredulously.

"Trilla, we don't have a choice!" Rava's voice rose to its highest volume, and for once Trilla could _sense_ her sincerity within the Force. There was guilt…a need for closure, mixed with a potent level of protective instinct. She wanted nothing more than to mend her earlier error…and Trilla could not deny her that chance. "Trust me…_please_."

She nodded, lowering her wrist as Rava released it. "Protect her. Wait for my signal."

It wasn't long before Trilla heard the charging of Rava's rifle, and by the time she had reached the loading ramp where Zahira was waiting with Nerah, still cuffed and on her knees, she could hear the scream of TIE fighters racing above. Her stomach lurched, and she felt a distinct well of fear rise within her, but it was quickly snuffed out by her building and unbridled rage. She had just got her daughter back, and there wasn't a chance in Hell the Empire would take her away from her again.

"It appears your mindless fellow lackies are here to reclaim you," Trilla scowled down at Nerah, who wore a neutral expression. "We shall see how much they _truly_ care about your safety."

Zahira began to protest, but Trilla was far too quick for her, gesturing with a slight move of her hand and dragging Nerah across the dirt. She dropped her on her knees, just before her with her wrists still bound behind her, just in time for a flood light to illuminate the night.

"You don't have to be what they say you are," Zahira pleaded under the downdraft. "You don't have to be a murderer."

"You are free to walk away now," Trilla growled. "I will do what needs to be done."

The chiss stirred, her hair astray and a mess atop her head. "When I am free of these chains, Suduri…I promise you…I _will_ kill you."

"Such empty threats," Trilla goaded, just as the gunship doors opened, and her quarry was revealed.

As she expected, an ISB officer with a vicious scowl expressed behind her field helmet was first, followed by a platoon of death and purge troopers. From the back end of the forest clearing emerged two inquisitors, their crimson blades flaring to life as she recognized their builds: the lithe and skinny Seventh Sister, and the blocky behemoth that was the Fifth Brother.

Agent Elena Markov held her ground at the front of the pack with her pointed blasters…just as a final, tall and unmistakable figure was last to emerge, his stride proper and confident as he assumed the secondary lead role.

"Second Sister…oh how I have missed you," the Grand Inquisitor greeted, his eyes bathed in amber as his pointed teeth were revealed with his smile. "I believe it is time for you to surrender."

Trilla probed her odds. They weren't great, in fact they were particularly perilous with the emergence of the Grand Inquisitor. Three blades against two, not to mention the squad of elite units who would certainly be shooting at them all the same…and then there was the fact that Nerah would eventually be factored back into a scale that continued to tip ever further away.

"As you can see, I have brought nothing less than the Empire's best to bear down upon you," the Grand Inquisitor spoke, his voice projected as if he was presenting a speech. "Within moments I will have the remainder of my forces arriving to finally…bring an end to this little charade that has persisted long after my Emperor can tolerate. Your feeble success on Nur has merely stalled the inevitable, and your continued illusion that you are free of your former masters continues to amuse me further each day it persists."

He was trying to intimidate her, a common tactic among his kind, and while he had made it quite obvious that he was aware of her former tutelage as one of his best students…he didn't seem to understand that she had never lost those lessons.

"How quaint," Trilla mocked. "I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to finally track me down. It's almost embarrassing really. A whole Empire, and I've existed right under your nose…"

The pau'an flashed her a smirk. "Charming, as always. I never dreamed of ruining that beautiful face when you were…enjoying our hospitality all those years ago. You have a wonderful voice, my dear, and you filled our halls with such captivating screams that it's hardly a wonder we decided to leave you in the embrace for so long."

Trilla tightened her grip on her hilt but did not let her anger show. She was beyond that…_far_ beyond that moment.

_Stop lying to yourself…listen to him…_

No…not now. Not _her_.

The Second Sister was standing right behind the Grand Inquisitor, her smirk so chilling it almost froze Trilla in place. Her wrist began to shake ever so slightly, and it was enough for her adversary to notice…and smile again.

"And it appears you have a _friend_," he sneered, his eyes on Zahira, who remained guarded, yet calm. "Why is your face not familiar?"

"It is not for you," Zahira commented, remaining at Trilla's side. "And I suggest you heed this warning: drop your weapons now. There is no need to throw your lives away in a fight you cannot win."

Trilla found it hard not to cringe at a line she had heard so many times from so many helpless Jedi. She wished she could spare her the embarrassment of the waves of laughter that came from their adversaries, one that even the Grand Inquisitor could not resist.

"Aha…my dear, why don't you entertain my _counter-offer_," he mused, keeping his hands behind his back. "You will release the honorable Vigan'era'hrorra and submit to Imperial custody. We will begin with the zabrak's interrogation…and then return you to the grasp of your former comrades. They have been _dying_ to see you again. Your android will be analyzed, slaved and perhaps made to torture you while we nurse your daughter to adulthood…to become an enforcer for the mighty Galactic Empire."

All Trilla could imagine now was wrapping her prosthetic hand around his neck and squeezing until she felt his vertebrae pop and the breath siphon from his lungs. Death hazed from her breath, and her thumb flirted with the ignition switch.

Then she felt something…a warm, inviting presence in the distance…something so comforting she wanted to smile, to surrender herself to its full embrace. It was euphoric…yet fierce and determined, a presence that struck fear in the heart of its enemies…the presence that she had loved so dearly.

And it was not alone.

Clenching her fist, an idea sparked in her mind.

"Go on then," Trilla waved Nerah forward, keeping her expression distressed and unsure. "Go back to your crowd."

Nerah looked from her and then back to Agent Markov, whose eyes regarded her with a soft _it's going to be alright_ look, before returning its fierceness back to Trilla. Nerah rose to her feet and stepped towards the Imperial group…just as Trilla felt that presence nearly atop her.

Danger sense prickled her spine.

TIE fighter blasts were followed by a brilliant ball of flame as the above gunship was struck three times in the side, already tumbling out of the sky and towards the assembled Imperial troops. Part of the gunship sheared off and barreled towards them, but the quick reflexes of Zahira reached out and caught the burning piece with both hands outstretched, and then shut her eyes as she heaved it away, tossing it aside. The Imperials were already recovering, but by then, two figured emerged before she and Zahira, blades of orange and green ignited in a bastion before them.

Terror echoed in the Force…all emerging from the side of the Imperials.

"Yeah," the unfamiliar and strikingly tall man heaved before them. "You're all dead."

The Grand Inquisitor snarled under his breath, just as his constituent inquisitors caught up behind him.

"What he said," Xur lurched forward and unleashed a booming push in the Force aided by his companion, making the inquisitors stumble and the startled Imperials either dig their weapons into the ground, or find themselves flailing helplessly through the air as they disappeared.

Within moments, the odds had evened…and Trilla's heart warmed as her husband's presence became physical. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him…or punch him for being late…but either way she knew now was not the time.

Introductions would have to take a back seat to the army of pissed off Imperials hungry for blood.

* * *

Nerah was built and tailored for battle, and over her seventeen years of life, she'd embraced quite a tolerance for horrifying and gruesome sights.

She'd never seen _anything_ like this. Four Force-wielding psychopaths all together at once, conjuring waves of energy and tossing boulders and tiny pebbles at the speed of blaster bolts. The front two men lead a forward charge into the mob of Imperial forces while Suduri engaged directly with the head inquisitor. Behind her remained the horned female who she had heard as _Zahira_, and she was the one raining death with merely her gestures and movements. Bones cracked while screams filled the air, bodies entering death throes as they eventually lay still.

This was no fight…it was a slaughter.

Knees slid across the dirt and Nerah whirled around, her wrists still bound, but momentarily relaxed with Markov in her sights. She looked fresh, certainly _much_ cleaner than she appeared, which made her somewhat jealous for the brief moment she could forget about the battle currently taking place.

"Wrists," Markov gestured, and the chiss wasted no time turning for the ISB agent to quickly unlock her cuffs and free her arms. However, when Nerah attempted to grasp a loose rifle and return to the fight, Markov's grip on her upper arm pulled her back. "Stand down. You and I are leaving."

Nerah scoffed, despite the hail of dirt. "What? Are you insane?"

"You achieved your directive, now we must let the mystics do their job. Commodore Thrawn has a more important task for you."

The chiss pulled herself free. "No! I'm not letting these terrorists—"

"You have your orders!" Markov shouted, which took Nerah half by surprise. The Agent _never_ regarded her in such a way. "Do not allow this to become personal. I have lost too many comrades to that mistake! You will drop that blaster and leave with me, _now_."

She wanted more than any reason in the galaxy to reject her command and return to the fight. It was in her nature to destroy the sworn enemies of the government she served…

And yet…she was an Imperial _second_. If _Thrawn_ had something more pressing than the current command…then she'd be foolish to deny him…to deny the superior officer the Ascendancy had assigned to her.

_Big Brother._

In that, she lowered her blaster and nodded to the only human she would ever consider a friend…and they exited the battlefield with all haste.

* * *

Xur had watched the ISB Agent and chiss special forces soldier retreat from the confrontation and mulled pursuit, but eventually thought against it. The Fifth Brother was upon him, crashing his blade into the zabrak's titian beam while displaying his sharp, pointed teeth and his absent green eyes. He almost laughed at the inquisitor's efforts to overpower him, as if he had not taken a hint from his former counterpart and Xur's current wife that such an effort was pointless against him.

Daniel was not far, currently tearing through a battalion of stormtroopers that flooded the scene with a ferocity that reminded him of…_him_. He appeared as a giant in their light, not so much against the Death Troopers who put up a much better fight, but any white armored trooper was staring death in the face. His intimidation did a number on them alone, and with his above-average affinity to the Force, he was a force to be reckoned with.

Of course, he wasn't quite the menace _he _was.

Despite the chaos of the current conflict, Xur had managed to turn his focus towards the new female presence during his duel with the Fifth Brother. It was warm…inviting, and certainly not unlike what he felt from his wife when she and he were together merely sharing a moment, but _this_ was during a conflict. Such serenity earned his respect, and as she continued to defend them with primarily Force attacks…he sensed a faint echo within her, one he had felt before…distantly when he was younger. It was a flicker of belonging, a blanket that enveloped his essence to hers…almost precisely how he felt around his mother.

He didn't know who she was, but he certainly desired to find out.

Xur readjusted his stance to execute two deflections before pressing with both hands wrapped around his hilt, making the larger combatant lose his balance just long enough for the zabrak to send him spiraling into a purge trooper, his flailing blade severing his own man in two. The Fifth Brother was always overzealous, hardly a match for him even four years ago, and he hadn't seemed to have learned much since.

Support from his men saved his life, pressing the advantage against Xur as he was forced to defend himself against the onslaught of enemy fire. Almost on cue, Daniel tore into the scene, drawing all the attention in the galaxy with his beckoning call, the emerald blade tearing through the air, heads rolling across the grass, and some stormtroopers thinking it best if they made themselves scarce.

"Cowards!" the Fifth Brother growled, swiping his blade through the air in vain. His rage was short-lived, however as the prospect of now fighting Xur Eon, slayer of more than enough of his kind, _and_ Daniel Velken on his own…the inquisitor knew when he was far outmatched. He staggered backwards, holding his blade defensively. "Grand Inquisitor…we are outnumbered!"

His superior was locked in a grueling and teeth grinding duel with Trilla, who didn't seem to give a damn _who_ he was…and whose rage was beginning to induce _him_ with fear.

A gasp in pain pulled Xur's eyes back towards the _Fury_, and he spotted the woman sustaining an upper arm mark that dropped her to one knee.

"Go!" Daniel pushed him forward. "I'll take care of him!"

Xur didn't need to think twice. He Force leapt to her aid, crossing blades with the Seventh Sister before she could land the death blow.

"When will your kind ever learn?" Xur asked, beginning to win out on their saber lock.

The Seventh Sister frantically shook her head as she deftly ducked out from under the lock and slashed horizontally, only to have Xur readjust and bat her saber away. "You'll never win," she declared.

"Heard that before," Xur swept her off her feet, sending her flying into the tree line and sliding on her back into the darkness. "And everyone who's said it is long dead by now."

With her taken care of, the zabrak turned and took a knee, regarding the fellow female of his species who still held her smoldering wound. Gently grasping her wrist, she glared his way and tried to jerk away. "Hey, hey! I'm just trying to help…" Xur insisted. "Just let me see it."

"I _know_ how serious wounds are…I'd be a terrible healer if I didn't," she snapped, her accent _posher_ than Trilla's, which was a shock that left his face with a stupid, puzzled expression. "And I don't want your help."

Xur scoffed. "Listen lady, that little thing I just did a few seconds ago, that's called saving your life. I'm not one to cash in on such debts, but a little gratitude goes a long way in my book."

The woman still glared at him, but her eyes didn't linger long, falling towards the ground in embarrassment. She then turned towards Trilla dueling the Grand Inquisitor and the fleeing Imperial troopers desperate to avoid Daniel's wrath. "We should help her."

Xur grasped her good arm and held her down. "No, no, no…she's doing just fine. We got to give her this one."

She narrowed her eyes. "Whatever do you mean?"

The zabrak watched his wife wear that determined look on her face, the conflicted expression he remembered so well from Katarr.

"She's not fighting him," he said. "She's fighting _herself_."

* * *

Trilla had made a habit of avoiding personal engagements as a Jedi, as leaving emotional ties behind would only ever hold her back. A lot of that changed towards the end of the war, and certainly after she had been tortured by the Empire for so long. Once hatred took its root into her heart, everything she ever did became personal; a chance to prove to herself that she _wasn't_ a weakling for giving in to the Dark Side. Eventually that faded as well, and by the time she had been reunited with Xur Eon, she _lived_ off personal engagements. Letting Nerah go was perhaps a chance to loosen that trend, but the moment she laid eyes on the pau'an male who had ruined her, she knew she wouldn't be able to leave this planet until he was dead.

There was too much to fight for, and she felt it all at once with each clash of blades against her taller quarry. She could feel the essence of the Second Sister pushing her on to complete her revenge, to rid herself of this man's influence once and for all…but she knew better. The Grand Inquisitor was merely the poster boy, and the true master of her torment would be forever beyond her reach.

That didn't stop her sinister double from trying. With each saber lock, she saw her face, echoing one phrase:

_Kill him._

She wanted to…oh how badly she wanted to run her blade through his heart and drink in the agony he experienced. The pleasure of such an act would be _intoxicating_…not to mention so incredibly _right_. He was good, but he wasn't as good as she had become. She'd learned too much from so many others that she'd become far too unpredictable for even his vast knowledge of bladework. He'd never go down easy, but she knew he stood no chance against her, and even less so if another came in to assist her.

But this was _her_ moment. _Her_ challenge.

And she would _take_ it.

Her Form II and Form IV hybrid style was too steady and too quick against most combatants, but the Grand Inquisitor was good, seemingly unaffected by the unorthodox tactic. He masterfully stopped her advance, pressing against her blade with his own.

"Is this all your freedom has taught you?" he asked. "Or has the truth set into your mind forever, my dear?"

Trilla snarled, stopping his advance with her superior leverage even with her shorter height. "Call me that one last time, and I shall show you what freedom has taught me."

They had two more deflections before Trilla enhanced her speed, batting away his blade and flipping with her leg, crashing her heel against his jaw. He stumbled and held his blade for defense, but she had already fazed away, winding up her blade and charging forward at a blinding speed, slashing horizontally at his waste. The Grand Inquisitor took this in stride, ducking under her attack and winding her with a knee and backhanding her onto the dirt.

Trilla grunted, grasping her pulsing jaw as she rolled over.

"Let me in…let me _beat him!_" the Second Sister shouted, looking down upon her. "Let me have my revenge…it's what we _both_ want!"

She growled and yelled, fazing through the spectre of herself to meet his blade again, and now he began to chuckle to himself. "You're wretched. This nuisance has persisted long enough," he pressed, his blade winning out as he back began to fold. "Ready to die?"

The Second Sister was blaring into her ears to let her in…but she couldn't…she wouldn't. Not after all she had been through…not after everything she had experienced since Katarr, not after looking into her daughter's eyes for the first time.

_We all feel that pull from the Dark Side…but it doesn't control you unless you let it._

If she gave in, everything would be lost…all of that joy, that permanent joy, traded for pleasure that would fade in minutes, and then…she would have nothing. She would be a slave to her hate, a servant of her anger…not a mother to a child who loved her.

In that moment, she felt herself accept that, and in the corner of her eye, she watched the wide-eyed Second Sister fade into the Jedi she once was. She smiled at her…and she smiled back.

_This_ was true freedom…free from uncontrollable passion, free of a life clinging to perverse pleasure, and in that, she fully surrendered to the moderate joy of being who she truly was.

She was a mother…and she was a _Jedi_.

Slowly, she began to press back, a new sense of purpose in her gaze as her strength began to win out, fear falling upon her opponent's expression as she pushed off his blade, slashing and cutting into his defense with precise swings. Her meticulous pattern pressed her advantage, and the Grand Inquisitor cried out in pain as his right arm was severed at the elbow.

_An arm for an arm._

He dropped to one knee, his hilt far from his reach. She whirled back for the killing blow, but instead her blade stopped just before his forehead.

She felt it…her struggle…her _fight_…was over.

"You…you will _never_…escape," he vowed, holding the stump of his arm. "You will die alone…agonized…and unloved."

Trilla felt her upper lip twitch, but she didn't take his bait, merely pulling her blade aside and let it drape steadily.

"You've lost," she said. "Everything you've built is gone…and it will _never_ return."

He heaved heavy breaths, looking up to her with hate-filled eyes, and she spotted his left-hand gesture. "Still…after all this time…you're just as—" his sentence died in that moment, right as Trilla's golden blade cut clean through his neck tissue, spinal column, and freed his head from his shoulders.

There was a clang behind her, the sound of his saber hilt returning to the surface.

The anger was gone.

A hand was on her shoulder, and when she turned, seeing the face of her husband, she dropped her hilt and fell into him, her nose buried into his neck, and all the pain she had ever felt floating away forever.

* * *

**12 BBY – **_**Fury**_

Trilla was asleep with Katara beside her when the _Fury _landed, and with her obvious exhaustion, Xur did not dare wake her. There was nothing for her to do any longer, and with the way she clung to her shut-eyed infant daughter, he didn't wish to ruin the perfect serenity she had achieved. Instead he had left her to her dreams, descending the loading ramp with Daniel Velken, a pack slung over his shoulder.

"You sure you don't want in?" Xur asked, just as they hit the end, and Zahira followed in tow. "The admiral needs men like you."

Daniel seemed to mull his response but shook his head. "I've got my own path to follow, wrongs to right…family to find," his eyes flicked towards he and Zahira, before turning back away. "You're way ahead, I've got to catch up."

Xur snorted. "Well, offer is always standing…and when you _do_ catch up," he held out his hand. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of stories to tell."

Daniel nodded, a bit of a smirk in his expression. "You know I used to think I was the only one left…" he said, before shaking his hand firmly. "Never been so glad to be wrong."

The zabrak let it ride out before letting his hand free, and then Zahira moved to give him a warm hug before pulling away.

"Stay safe, please," she said, her head cocked with a sad smile. "Out there…fighting. If you need anything, let me know."

He nodded, before turning half away. "You got a good thing here, Eon," he said, before beginning to walk away. "Don't screw it up."

As he left, Xur crossed his arms, and begin to take note of Zahira's sudden impulse to shudder, and the blush that erupted even with her crimson skin.

"Everything alright?" he nudged her with his elbow.

She shook her head, as if shaking dust from her body. "Of course," she nodded, and then quickly ascended the ramp, leaving Xur to only smirk and follow, shutting the ramp closed once he reached the top.

"Someone's got a _crush_," he prodded, to which she whirled around and balled her fists.

"I do not! I'm a Jedi," she crossed her arms, looking away. "Don't be ridiculous."

Xur's smirk grew wider. "By the Force, you might be the worst liar I've ever met."

Zahira smiled back. "Ah. I take that as a compliment."

"So you _are_ lying."

Her smile faded, and eventually she began to rub her neck and force that smile to return, before shrugging. He couldn't resist smiling back with a slight laugh, and then eventually flicked his head towards their makeshift bar, just as the Fury began to take off at Rava's behest.

"What something to drink?" he offered, opening the cabinets and fishing out a glass.

"Just water please," she smiled brightly, taking a seat on the large couch usually he and Trilla occupied. "I um…don't drink."

"Hmph," Xur half-snorted, pouring one for himself, and a water for her from the sink. "We'll see how long that lasts. I'm kind of a bad influence."

"So I've heard," Zahira rested her palms on top of one another, waiting patiently. She trailed off after that, and then continued to look down as he took his seat beside her, only looking up to accept her glass.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice more flat than concerned.

Zahira flashed embarrassment in the Force, and then finally met his gaze. "I'm sorry about how I treated you back on Teth…I just wasn't sure…"

"Zahira, I've dealt with much worse than that, believe me," he assured, taking a sip and letting the bitter taste work its way over his tongue and down his throat. "And I probably deserve it, to be honest."

She chuckled. "Perhaps. I probably should've yelled at your louder, in hindsight. Might've wiped that insufferable smirk you always seem to wear on your face."

He laughed. "Didn't think you'd be funny."

"I think you're just an easy crowd," she popped her brow, taking a heavier sip of her water.

Xur scoffed. "Is that a compliment, or…?"

Zahira shrugged. "Up to you, baby brother."

_Brother._

The word resonated well within his mind, and even if it had only been a few days since he had learned that this warm, inviting presence in the Force was indeed his twin sister, he felt like he had known her all his life. She was just…so easy to love, and to have her as part of his family…it was just a beautiful gift he never expected to receive.

"_Baby brother_," he snorted. "Why am I the _baby_ brother? Is it because of your _lovely_ and adult accent?"

Zahira rolled her eyes. "No…you're just short."

He shook his head, and then let his hand rest atop hers. "You and I are going to get along great…but only if you try this," he offered his drink.

His sister eyed it for a moment, before surrendering to his gaze with an admonishing smile. Amateurly, she took a large sip and immediately coughed, but the wheezing eventually evolved into their joined laughter…and they let it ride until their jaws hurt and their smiles dissipated.

* * *

** Long time coming for this one. Hope you enjoyed it! Most likely, I will be leaning towards single-chapter arcs instead of multi-chapter ones, that way I don't get trapped with one for a long time. It may mean a longer wait, but I think it will mean more content for you all in the long run.**

** Thanks for reading, and stay safe!**


	45. Walking Away

**Walking Away**

"Sometimes you have to walk away from what you want to find what you deserve."

**Artakha – 10 BBY**

Trilla held up her hands to serve as targets…or perhaps more as shields as Katara's open palms pressed forward, smacking against her skin as they collided. It was rather simple entertainment for her energetic daughter, and the faster she tired, the faster Trilla could earn a reprieve for the time being. Although, part of her still wanted to be in every moment of Katara's life, and even if she had to suffer beatings from time to time via tiny fists, she thought it was worth it.

Sleepless nights were another matter.

Still, as Katara approached age four, she was beginning to become more independent, which was exactly how she had raised her thus far. The better she could take care of herself, the better Trilla would be able to close her eyes knowing she was safe.

One open palm slipped through her defenses and smacked into her chest, to which Trilla grunted.

"Hey!" she warned, but in an easing, almost playful way from across the couch. "Don't beat your mother."

"Ha! Got you!" Katara giggled, showing little remorse for her attack.

_Is that so?_

Trilla felt a smirk widen across her face, which translated back to Katara, until she suddenly swooped the girl into her arms and pressed her fingers firmly against her stomach. The girl screamed with laughter, and Trilla then continued to poke. "Now Mommy's got _you_, little nebula!" she teased.

"No! Stop it, Mama!" she protested, but only continued to laugh as Trilla progressed her assault, before enough of her laughs sated her façade of wounded pride. Katara caught her breath as she settled into Trilla's embrace, looking up to her from below. "Please don't do that."

Trilla smiled, kissing her on the forehead. "Say you're sorry."

Katara hesitated, but another poke made her giggle. "Sorry Mama. I would never want to hurt you."

"_Oh_, I know, my little darling," she cooed, pulling her in close. "I love you."

Katara snuggled in. "I love you too, Mommy."

Their moment was torn asunder by the sound of intense pained effort as the front door was forced open. Trilla's mind was immediately snapped into combat mode, and a quick gesture had her hilt clap into her hand as she pulled Katara close, who was already clinging to her mother after the loud noise. Rising to her feet, she carried her daughter with her hilt held forward, advancing towards the kitchen bar and behind the entrance to the hallway.

"Mommy…what's happening?" Katara asked.

"Shhhh," Trilla hushed, and then leaned in. "Whoever that is, if you come any closer, you're dead!"

"Trilla!" Xur shouted from the front of the house, his efforts pained and voice hoarse. "Help me…dammit!"

Her eyes widened as she ran down the hallway and was greeted to the sight of his partly burned robes and armor, his face soiled and bloody as he laid out an unconscious body beside him.

The body of his mother.

"By the…" she trailed off, setting Katara on her feet and tossing her lightsaber aside as she tended to Valeria. "What happened? Why didn't you tend to her on the Fury?!"

"Rava's with the Admiral…fresh out of bacta…_gah!_" he groaned, and she noticed a spot in his armor where a blaster bolt had torn through his side. "Damn Death Trooper shot me as I carried her away."

"Daddy!" Katara ran to him as he leaned back against the wall, his breathing tested and burdened. "Daddy's hurt, Mom!"

"Daddy will be okay, sweetheart," Xur grunted, squeezing his daughter's shoulder as he leaned forward.

"Dammit, stop trying to move!" Trilla almost roared, her anxiety reigning supreme as she pulled various bits of Valeria's burnt clothing away, trying to assess her wounds. "Did the two of you run through an inferno?!"

"You could say that…" Xur almost chuckled with a pained smile.

"Stop treating this as a jest!" Trilla shouted, making Katara rear back in fear. "It drives me fucking insane!"

Xur's anger blew over, his true feelings suddenly snapping into reality as his attempts to cover his pain with humor were swept away. "I am fully aware that my mother is _bleeding out on the fucking floor!_" he roared back.

"Do not shout at me…" Trilla seethed.

"_Or what?!_"

Katara covered her ears and began to cry. "Stop it! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!"

Valeria gasped for air as her consciousness was restored, and her groans in pain were anguished and heavy. Trilla motioned forward to assist her, but she was shoved aside by Xur as he forced himself into her position, and she could only clench her fist and stare daggers into her husband, whose eyes were fixated on his mother.

She wanted to beat him…she wanted to _hurt _him…but part of her understood; a miniscule, ever tiny part of her understood his pain, and it was enough to stay her hand.

"Mom…mom, I'm right here," he eased, and she heaved forward, reaching for his arm.

"Xur…ugh…bloody bastard ran his blade through my abdomen," she heaved, and Trilla could only deduct that could've been an inquisitor…which hurt her just knowing. It was only then that she noticed the distinct burn of a saber through the side of her stomach…over enough to be fatal after a time. "Damn guts are starting to pour out."

"You're going to be alright…" Xur eased. "We're going to…we're going to help you."

Valeria's eyes began to haze, but she gasped, looking past Xur and to Katara, whose tears were still running down her face as she watched in confusion and horror. The elder zabrak reached for her, Xur contorting his body to allow her. "L-let me…let me see…my granddaughter."

Katara looked frightened, but when her eyes came to Trilla, she managed to force herself to agree with Valeria's request. Xur's anguish and fear was rising the longer his mother's condition settled into him, and Trilla noticed his fleeting words and trembling chin. Katara inched her way forward until Valeria could reach her, and their matching crimson skin united as she accepted her smaller hand.

"Wh-what's your name…beautiful girl?" she asked, and Xur began to tremble.

"Th-this is your…your grandmother…Katara," Xur introduced, his first tears appearing.

Trilla noticed, however, Katara's eyes never reached Valeria as she approached…rather they were locked on the woman's wound…unable to pull themselves away.

"Grandmama?" Katara asked, still looking at her wound. "Grandmama is hurt."

Xur's eyes shut as he rocked, and then he forced a smile towards his daughter. "No…no, your grandmother is going…" he heaved, fighting off his anguish. "…she's going to be alright."

Valeria gasped, fighting off her pain as she caressed the girl's cheek, and then looked up to Xur. "I've prepared you for this…" she trailed. "I…_ugh_…I trained you to be strong. Look at me."

Xur sniveled roughly as he forced his tears away, meeting her gaze. "Stay with me, Mom."

Trilla felt her anger wash away with the intense pain he emitted in the Force, and slowly she knelt beside him and soothingly rubbed his back, offering support in any way she could.

Valeria grasped ahold of him with all her might that remained. "My granddaughter…protect her. I can…I can feel her power…she's…she's…" her sentence trailed off in a desperate gasp that fleeted, and her eyes hazed away.

And then she _groaned_.

Xur and Trilla looked up…and watched their daughter hold her hand over Valeria's wound, watching it glow and begin to seal it shut, restoring her flesh and putting her back together. The effort was intense, and her power was unfocused, but once the deed was done, Katara fell back, Trilla catching her with a gentle ripple in the Force, before scooping her into her arms.

Valeria breathed easier, her hands running over her sealed wound, and Xur's eyes widened. "Incredible," Valeria whispered.

Katara was asleep in Trilla's arms, her energy spent…but the miracle worked.

* * *

Xur hadn't left his room since he watched his mother momentarily die in his arms, sitting with his head aimed towards the floor after he had cleansed himself of all the grime he had accumulated. It was incredible what Katara did…how she had done it so young, and he was so proud of her effort…as well as thankful for extending the life of his mother. All of it was incredible…truly, but he couldn't get one simple, yet glaring crime he had committed out of his head.

Laying two hands on Trilla, and forcefully shoving her aside.

It was something he never thought he was capable of, and only now did it so gravely terrify him. If he had been just a smidge angrier, that could've been his outstretched hand and a wave in the Force, slamming her into a wall, and running the risk of it cracking her skull and ending her life.

He trembled in his solitude as the image persisted, and he tried everything he could to forgive himself, but it was meaningless. She hadn't looked his way since it had happened, and he couldn't blame her. After all, he hadn't really given her any attention for an extended period.

Again.

Wiping his face with his hands, he felt himself drown in his regret once again, and it was almost pitiful just to feel this way. He should be celebrating the fact that his mother was still alive, not sulking alone like this.

The alone part ended almost on cue.

Looking up, he spotted Trilla enter the room, her expression that blank slate she always gave him when she was upset…because she knew not being able to read her drove him insane. It baited him…made him desperate; feel as if he was the ultimate villain who should fall to his knees and beg her for forgiveness.

This time, however, there was a hint of understanding, as well as relief that everything had worked itself out, even despite what had happened. She paced inside and set aside the clothes she had changed Katara out of…as well as the blood tattered rags she had used to help his mother.

"She's resting now…all she wanted was to watch after Katara," Trilla revealed, pacing to their bathroom in the master bedroom and switching on the sink. "She'll be alright."

As she washed her hands, Xur found surprise she was letting it slide for now, but his mind was too fixated on it to let it go.

"I'm sorry," was all he said.

Trilla finished her wash, shutting off the sink. "For what?"

The zabrak scoffed, looking away. "You know."

Drying off her hands with a towel, she stood at the door entrance, leaning against the frame. "You just walked in with your dying mother and asked for help…your wife's help. Forgive me, but I fail to see what there is to be sorry for."

"Not even after I…" he trailed off, and then got ahold of himself. "I should've never yelled at you, put my hands on you, any of it. That was unacceptable."

Trilla let out a mocking scoff.

"You think this is funny?" he narrowed his eyes.

She shook her head. "I think _you're_ funny," she corrected, stepping forward to take a seat beside him. "You're starting to sound like a prince speaking to his princess. Believe me, darling, if I thought you were out of line, I would've returned your ferocity in tow."

Xur blinked. "I'm not sure if that's better or worse."

"Doesn't matter. That's the reality," she shrugged. "I can take a little time when you're upset, and besides, you pushed me away in a manner that a medical officer would remove someone from a dying victim so they could work. You didn't try to beat me, and I know you had no intention of harming me."

"I would _never_," Xur reiterated, and her hand grasped his upper arm.

"I _know_," she eased. "Sweetheart, you almost just watched your mother die in front of you. Don't worry about me. Let _me_ worry about _you_."

It still didn't feel right, but he accepted her judgment for now, still taking the mental note to be better anyhow. "Alright."

Her hand sunk into his and she smiled his way, toying with strands of his hair that wouldn't settle in their proper positions. The zabrak maintained his serious expression, but he nonetheless tightly maintained a grip on her hand.

"What else is bothering you?" she asked, finished with his hair and now just letting her hand rest.

_She always knows._

"When I watched that crimson blade protrude through my mother's stomach…everything I'd ever done suddenly felt like it didn't mean anything. If I have all this power, all this strength, and I can't protect the people I love…then what's the point of having it at all?" he mused, keeping his eyes elsewhere.

"You need to stop believing the lie that you can control everything," Trilla answered, her tone matter of fact. "No man is powerful enough to alter every situation that he's a part of. Sometimes there's truly nothing we can do, no matter how powerful we are. In the end, none of us are gods…not even you."

Xur shook his head, letting out a sigh. "Trust me, I don't want to be a god."

"No. Instead you're a son…a father," she listed, and then rested her head on his shoulder. "And a husband."

He sighed again, clasping her hand a little tighter. "I wish I was better at being two of those things."

"Oh nonsense," Trilla waved off. "You treat your mother better than she deserves, and I'm still learning to be a mother as well…"

"I meant the husband part," Xur corrected.

Trilla stiffened for a moment until eventually pulling her head from his shoulder…and her expression betrayed what she said next. "That's ridiculous."

Xur finally looked at her with his dark blue eyes, cocking his head. "Don't lie to me."

It took a moment, but she finally shook her head and rose to her feet. "Come with me. Dress for a walk, would you?"

"A walk?" Xur echoed.

"That's right. You and I are going to have an honest discussion, just not in this dread-tainted place."

* * *

Xur had no idea where his wife was leading him to, but in their respective robing, he imagined it wasn't anything strenuous or physically demanding. After the trials of the day he was looking forward to avoiding such activities for the time being. At least having her close by did much to ease his current emotional state, especially with her current upbeat-ish mood. He figured it was perhaps the chance to _not_ have to worry about watching Katara…and while he hoped it was just the fact that he was back with her…he wasn't overly optimistic in that regard.

Still, she pulled him along, roaming Artakha's rolling plains as dusk settled in, leaving their cliffside home behind. He'd had little time to explore the planet's expanse, as it was far from Cal's enclave that he was preparing to accept students…and the circumstances of the system itself ensured the Empire would never find them here. Just getting through the nebula surrounding the system took five to seven precise hyperspace jumps that only a wayfinder could simulate…and there were only two of those, permanently integrated to the _Mantis_ and the _Fury_. They'd made a home for themselves here, certainly as a way to give Katara some resemblance of a normal childhood…even if she were alone.

He pushed those thoughts away for another time.

"Hun…do you want to tell me where we're going?" Xur asked, trying to keep up with Trilla.

"No," she shook her head, making her tone sound obviously carefree.

_Damn woman._

They'd been walking for at least a half hour, so by now it was anyone's guess what could possibly be over in the direction they were headed.

Anyone's guess except for hers it appeared.

"You didn't find some primitive tribe that wants me as a sacrifice, did you?" he asked, mostly joking, partly wondering.

"Darling, if I wanted you dead…I would've left you that way on Katarr," she assured, stopping at a rock face that looked climbable.

"Fair point, I guess," Xur said, stopping beside her as he looked up the cliffside. "So…what are we…?" he was cut off by her coming behind him and wrapping her arms around his chest, letting her chin rest on his shoulder.

"Since you think you're such a bad husband, you're going to prove how wrong that standpoint is to yourself," she whispered, her voice like velvet. "You're going to carry your wife up this rock face."

His first instinct was _of course_, but as his practical mindset set in, it turned into _why_.

"If you drop me, I'll be hurt…maybe even die," she said. "But I know you won't let that happen…because you're a strong, passionate person who fights for those he loves no matter the odds."

"Trilla," he stopped her, looking up the climb. "This is crazy. You're going to get hurt."

"No I won't," she denied. "Because you won't let me."

_Why are you doing this?_

It was madness, and it reminded him of his cryptic Jedi training back in the day, or the lessons he learned from this mother on Ziost. Why would they take this risk just to prove a point?

"Trilla, I'm not going to leave your life to sheer chance."

"I don't need chance, Xur Eon," she continued. "I have you."

She wasn't going to let this go, so he merely scoffed, shaking his head as he prepared to climb. "You're crazy, you know that?"

Trilla giggled. "I've been informed by many."

Xur nearly began in that instant but had a double take. Part of him began to wonder if this was all a part of some test, and at first he dismissed it as paranoia, but he kept on with it.

"Trilla…we shouldn't do this…" he warned again.

"Eon…come, now…"

"No," he shook his head with finality, turning to face her. "No…I'm not doing it. It's too dangerous, and I can't risk that…no choice with the prospect of losing you is worth it. I'm sorry, but I don't care what you say."

Trilla feigned disappointment for a minute, but it slowly morphed into a smile of satisfaction, and she leaned in to press her lips softly against his. Quickly his face relaxed as their quiet moment flourished, and he let her know exactly how he felt about her. Only then did he realize how long it had been since he had kissed her, and he lost himself to her scent, her aura, her body all over again. She was so primitively perfect, her complexity so advanced he could never fully comprehend her, but he could admire her for eternity.

This woman was his…_all_ his.

She pulled away slowly, letting their foreheads rest together as she kept her arms wrapped around his neck.

"A good husband tells his wife when she is wrong…and stands by that until she understands. A good wife does the same in return. I do not want you to ever feel guilty for setting me in the right direction…I owe you more than I could possibly repay—"

"You don't owe me _anything_," he promised. "You never have."

When she looked at him again, her expression adopted appreciation, and she fell into him, letting her nose bury into his shoulder as they embraced. He just held her there…convincing himself in the process that he hadn't let her down, and that he was giving everything he had to her.

Whenever she needed him, he'd be there.

"Is this the…honest conversation you wanted to have?" he asked as she lifted her head again.

Her made-up eyes panned downwards for a moment, and he sensed slight dread arise within her. "No," she admitted, pacing away. He never let her go, keeping his hand wrapped around hers as he followed, and he couldn't help but feel a bit of worry.

_Why is this reminding me of Ziost…_

She couldn't be pregnant again, as they hadn't…_performed_…in over nine months…unless it was with someone else. His fingers twitched at that thought but knew it couldn't possibly be true.

"Are you pregnant again?" he blurted, rather unwillingly.

She turned, her look less incredulous than he wished, but she shook her head. "Absolutely not…but…"

_Oh no._

"Trilla…" he warned, his tone low.

In that moment, she seemed to have her own tongue slip. "Xur, I want to have another."

Relief flowed as he now knew that she _wasn't _cheating on him, but it was quickly replaced by slight insanity.

"What are you fuckin' nuts?" he asked.

Trilla scoffed, crossing her arms as she pulled her hand from him and looked away. "I understand that it's not an easy question to ask," she half-snarled. "And it's great to see my supportive husband is so…_understanding_."

He sighed, raising his hands as his head drooped. "Sorry…really," he apologized. "But…you're _serious?_"

Her head slowly turned; both her emerald eyes locked upon him. "Yes, darling, I'm dead bloody serious."

The zabrak wiped his eyes, almost as a reality check, and then shook his head. "Trilla…one already gives us almost more stress than we can handle. You want to _double_ that?!"

"I _want_ you to stay with me…_here_," she corrected, which silenced him. It was never a question he'd ever think she'd ask him, but he should've known it would come up. "No more splitting off…no more leaving me…just you and me raising our family…"

He almost dropped dead right there. "Trilla, you know I can't just walk away…"

"Of course you can!" she denied. "When you asked me to marry you, did you honestly think you could just…disappear for months at a time, and that I would not raise my ire to that?"

"Trilla…"

"I don't want my daughter to think she is alone…" she admitted, one tear beginning to seep from her eye. "Do you want to know what she told me two weeks earlier?"

Xur sank, his emotions leaking through as he could only guess.

"I was cooking for her…and as she watched, she looked up to me and asked: _Why doesn't Daddy love me?_" Trilla began to cry, but managed to snap back, wiping her tears away. "Do you understand…how much a question like that _hurts?_ And I have to…keep my smile, look back at her and promise her, and _I know_…I know you love her, Xur…but she doesn't know that…"

It hurt more than he could ever imagine. Such a simple question…and it cut straight to his core, bursting his tight emotional barriers in a mere instant. Knowing that the Empire ruled the galaxy was painful…but knowing that his daughter believed he didn't love her was excruciatingly damaging to his confidence as a living being…and no crisis could ever match such pain.

All he wanted to do now was tell his daughter how much he loved her…and that he would never leave her sight again.

Trilla embraced him as he cried, torn from his natural calling and the duty to his family…and by now he knew the choice had to be made.

"I'll stay…I promise," he vowed, sniveling his tears away. "I'm not going anywhere."

He felt her happiness blossom, and the kiss she placed on his cheek transferred that back to him. "And I'll promise you this. I know the day will come when you will have no choice but to return to the fight…but you won't do it alone. When that time comes, I will be with you, fighting alongside you, as we did before."

Xur held her tightly in his grip, bathing in everything about her. Part of him was happier than he could imagine. Spending the rest of his days with Trilla…there was a peace to that he had never thought possible.

"Let's have another," he agreed. "Let's do it."

Trilla had never felt happier than ever before, and her trill of elation warmed his heart as she jumped up and down slightly.

"I can't wait," she said, and then roughly grasped ahold of his robing with a tight grip. "Literally."

Xur knew what she was implying but grasped her wrists. "Why don't we go back and do this like…civilized people?"

Trilla paused for a moment, but her devious smirk won out. "Not to worry. There is a tent I have prepared just past this rock face."

_Always the forward thinker._

"Well," Xur swept her off her feet, easily carrying her in the general direction as she exclaimed in surprise. "Lead the way."

* * *

To say they made a ruckus isn't entirely accurate, nor does it truly justify what the married couple partook within that tent. Trilla, as always, insisted to take the lead, pull the punches, sometimes literally, and set the tone. Xur was, as always, perfectly fine with letting her do all the work. All he had to do was watch the show.

And it was a pretty good one. Even then, that's still not doing it justice.

Trilla was like a savage animal when she got going, and sometimes he was afraid she might accidently kill him, but that fear was quickly placated by the fact that he could perfectly defend himself or tear her off him if it were really that bad.

Why he would ever do that is another question.

Their first time engaging on Katarr, he lasted about two to three minutes, but that was because neither of them knew what they were doing. They were both going full psycho on each other, and that resulted in a rather lackluster and short-lived first round. The second time was better, but that time Trilla literally whooped his ass…the engagement where Katara was conceived.

Sporadic times after that, they had learned each other's tendencies, and by now Trilla had lost her animalistic insanity, and Xur had completely lost his anxiety. Now it just felt like a little conversation…and pretty _amazing_ one at that.

"Am I getting anywhere?" Trilla asked, currently performing as she breathed heavier than usual, shaking her head from time to time as waves rolled through her body. "My legs are starting to ache."

Xur sniffed, holding back a grunt as she continued, taking the chance to test his endurance. It had almost become a game between them by now, and Trilla had made it her mission to make him go as fast as possible.

"You're going to have to do a little better," he winked.

She smirked, pulling her hair from her face. "You're a liar."

What she did next made him sweat.

"Oh no…" he grimaced. "Dammit…!"

He lost this round.

Trilla clapped and raised her hands with a cheer. "Ah, yes! Once again, I have killed you."

"Yeah," he cleared his throat, and then grimaced. "Okay…that one hurt. Let's take a break?"

Trilla giggled. "Well, regardless, I'm getting off you."

She did exactly as such, rolling back to her side of the makeshift bed and snuggling in beside him, kissing his cheek once she was settled. Her yawn was rather cute as he felt her heartbeat against his arm, and her nose exhale into his ear.

"Mommy's tired," she said, closing her eyes.

He smirked. "If Mommy wasn't tired, I'd think she wasn't human."

"Mommy is definitely human. Speaking of Mommy…let's brainstorm names now, that way were not scrambling later."

"We're not scrambling now?"

Trilla let out a dry laugh. "Ha ha…_dirty man_."

Xur mock-sniffed. "What's that I smell? Hypocrisy?"

She smacked his chest for that, which stung, but he didn't give her the satisfaction of a yelp in pain. "Fuck off…you brute," she giggled.

Silence dominated the two of them for the moment, and Xur allowed it to give Trilla a chance to rest, her breathing slowing and easing back to normal. He didn't realize how much he missed her beside him…as well as drinking in the sight of her body. It was just so…all he wanted to do was bite down on it, not literally, but he wanted to consume her…wholly and completely.

She leaned in as she giggled again, and he imagined she had sensed his thoughts. "Give me a few minutes darling…then you can have it all you want."

Xur turned over, looking into her eyes. "No rush. You were saying names."

Her eyes panned upwards. "Right! Erm…should we start with boy or girl names?"

The zabrak rolled his eyes. "It's going to be a girl."

"Oh?" Trilla narrowed her gaze. "So sure, are you?"

"Pretty sure," Xur shrugged. "With my luck I'll be surrounded by an army of little women by the time I'm thirty-five."

Trilla scoffed. "Don't sound so dramatic. It's just one more."

"Yeah?" he turned back over. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"You think I'm doing this for fun?" she asked. "I don't think you understand how strenuous it is to carry a child."

"You _will _have to stop drinking again."

"I've been sober for two years, mind you," she poked at him. "Got tired of waking up with a hangover and having to make sure my daughter was fed."

"Not a bad idea," he figured, and then turned in the bed, pulling her atop him gently, and eventually she took the hint, settling in. "Girl names. You have any?"

"Hmm," she thought adorably. "Katara translates to droplet in a dead language I cannot speak…so…I'd like to keep a theme."

"You want to name our second daughter after water?" Xur almost laughed, running his hands over her back.

"No," she shook her head. "…ah…I have one."

Xur raised his brow while she drew small circles over his chest.

"Alhara," she said. "Alhara Eon."

The zabrak smiled. "It could be Alhara Suduri. We're not legally married, remember?"

"Hm," she returned her smile. "I guess we shall leave that up to her."

With that out of the way, he couldn't contain himself anymore. Flipping over, they kissed hungrily, before Xur placed kisses from her neck, between her breasts, and then down to her stomach as she groaned with pleasure. It tasted so delicious he went back for more, paying special attention to her toned belly, kissing every dip and curve he could find.

Trilla groaned with pleasure. "Oh…you're like a…bloody suction cup…oh!" she gasped, her sensitivity blossoming as he moved lower. Her breathing quickened, but it went up and down in deeper tones, seizing with pleasure as each waved rolled by. Insanity gripped her as she growled, sitting up to pull his mouth to hers, and he followed her command, linking their lips together as they kissed with undying ferocity, her ferocious nature awakened as she rolled back atop him.

By then…it was back to the races.

* * *

**Artakha – 10 BBY**

"Why do you have wrinkles, grandmama?"

Valeria narrowed her eyes at the mildly insulting comment from her granddaughter but managed to allow herself to smile as the child touched her face, perched in her lap. She had slept there, still not cured of her ailments and pains…a sign of her body's age…and allowed Katara to remain with her. The little girl was a curious one, a sign of a critical intelligence, and with what she had done the previous day…Valeria knew she would one day wield great power.

_If_ her son didn't muck up raising her…and she had never trained him to be sentimental, despite his nature. Xur would no doubt protect her…but train her was another matter.

"Because I am an old woman, my dear," Valeria said, running her fingers through Katara's black hair. "When you reach my age, I doubt you will look _this_ good, however."

Katara giggled. "What does that even mean, grandmama?"

"It means you should show respect for your elders, little girl," she tugged at her cheek gently, making Katara laugh.

"Hey, stop it!"

Valeria allowed herself to chuckle slightly, but in that she felt the sorrow and mild jealousy at the fact that she had never been able to watch her children grow, Zahira least of all. Her daughter had been left with the Jedi when she was born, as she did not have the gift that her son had been granted…no matter how badly it shredded her to pieces. The Jedi had corrupted her into a woman hung and bound by sentimentality, a weakness Valeria had hoped to strip from her son on Ziost. To her luck, she had mostly succeeded…although his selfish desire for the mother of her granddaughter was a small bit that she had failed to eradicate.

She could not argue with the results, however.

"You're daddy's mama, right?" Katara asked, cocking her head as she sat in Valeria's lap.

Valeria nodded. "Yes. I am."

The little girl adorably scratched her chin in a semi-serious fashion. "Then who's mama's mama?"

The elder zabrak blinked, not prepared for the question, as well as not ready to answer. She found herself cocking her own head, her eyes turned skyward before returning. "I don't know."

"Hmm. Mama said she didn't know either. I thought maybe you would," Katara mused.

Valeria smiled and brushed Katara's head. "It doesn't quite work like that, darling."

Katara seemed to think on it harder, but they both turned towards the front of the home on cue, presences familiar and potent in the Force, one for Valeria more than the other. They were both ecstatic, drowning themselves in immense pleasure…but also joy at the prospect of an event, perhaps a decision.

A _big_ decision.

Valeria planted a little kiss on Katara's head. "Go to your parents, would you? I'm sure they've missed you."

Katara gasped, making Valeria grunt as she climbed off her lap and raced off, and soon enough there were cries of elation in greeting, and Valeria couldn't hide her smile. In the end however, that jealousy returned, and her smile faded…

Then Xur's decision came to light.

When her son finally emerged, the look on his face did not betray his thoughts. He wore them…openly and without regret with a freedom she could only dream of. She tried desperately to grasp for a reason he could not remain here and raise his family…but none came…only the constant, beating fact that she would've given _anything_ to watch her son and daughter grow beneath her wing. That time was gone…but perhaps…

Perhaps she could embrace a second chance.

Her son took her hand as he sat across from her, giving her a smile as he did so. "Doing a little better?" he asked.

Valeria gave him a nod. There was no reason to lie to him any longer. "Yes…and I see you are as well."

His thumb rubbed the top of her hand, before letting his head droop, as if preparing to say something he was unsure of. "Mom, I…I've come to a crossroad…and I want a last piece of guidance from you…before I make my choice."

She smiled at him, letting her head lean back as she reached for his face with her free hand, letting her fingers trace his jaw until they rested under his chin. "You've already made your choice, my dear. I have nothing left to teach you."

He blinked but understanding flourished in his expression as she leaned back. "I…I thought you might be upset."

Valeria shook her head. "No…my boy. I believe you have played your part…and now the gears of time are turning in the right direction. It will take time…perhaps decades…but I believe that after all you have done, the Empire will collapse on itself. The Force has guided you to this planet…one that can shield us all from their gnarled claws and protect us for as long as it may take.

"I have seen your daughter…held her in my arms. She is the future you must nurture, and you cannot do that on the battlefield," Valeria finished, and then nodded. "This is where you belong."

Xur's eyes did not leave hers. There was much uncertainty in them, but his continued grip of her hand was soft…secure. His conscience betrayed his state of mind, and in that moment she knew he had found his calling…his destiny.

It was here.

He nodded. "Where will you go?"

Valeria shook her head in return. "Nowhere. I burned everything on Ziost and have been traveling since. That is how you found me…and now I would like to explore this treasured world…

"…and watch my grandchildren grow."

Xur smiled, sniveling for a moment, before pulling her in for a gentle hug.

"You will, Mom. You will."

* * *

**Sorry if you didn't expect something a little more…sketchy, but hey, this story is rated M for a reason. I apologize if it did catch you off guard, anyway. As a promise, however, that is how much of a lemon I am willing to write.**

** So what's next? What a brilliant question I have not been able to answer myself for quite some time now, and only just today (as I am posting this) did I come up the solution.**

** This story has been in DESPERATE need of some sort of goal or comprehensive plot that doesn't end after an arc of four chapters. The previous chapter finally wrapped up Trilla's Second Sister subplot, essentially bringing an end to her character arc. So, as of now, the stories of Xur and Trilla as far as character development are told. They are set in stone and established (300k words later), which means it's time to shift the focus!**

** But that isn't as easy as it sounds, now is it?**

** As you have surely noticed, I have little to no interest in developing a dull McGuffin hunt for Cal, Merrin and Greez regarding Artakha, so I've decided to just implement it. Trust me, I've spared you. It may be confusing now, but believe me, I'm not done.**

** Inquisition is getting a full-length continuation instead of a sequel, featuring characters such as Katara, her little sister, Ahsoka Tano, Bo-Katan Kryze, Nerah…and a villain you may not expect.**

** What I will leave you with is this: fans of Thrawn and the Mandalorian will be pleased. **

** Which brings me to another point. The Grand Inquisitor is dead…which means Rebels can no longer happen in the same way, can it? Exactly. Rebels is no longer canon in the Eons timeline. This does not mean those characters will not appear (although I make no promises in that regard). All the Rebels characters I cared about have already made their appearances in this story anyhow, and various others will be replaced with other characters I have created myself. The Inquisitorious at this point is more or less a failed organization in shambles that the Empire is looking to replace.**

** Hopefully, this will become much more comprehensive, and give you guys a better reason to stick around. I still stand behind my decision to not change anything from the Original Trilogy, but that doesn't mean the power 4 will not appear (just in very small capacity).**

** Which means, no, for fuck sake, no one is going to Exegol to destroy Palpatine. Please…for the love of God…stop asking. If you do, I will kill Trilla out of spite.**

** Okay maybe not, but still, stop asking. If you wanted a fan servicey birthday cake tale of an overpowered mary sue with zero character development destroying the most powerful being in the galaxy, just watch the sequel trilogy. This story will not stoop to that pathetic level.**

** On that note, hope you guys are excited to get this story going in a straight line again! Thanks for the constant support and helpful insight during these trying times. I still can't comprehend the overwhelming love you guys have given. Thank you!**

** See you soon, and stay safe!**


	46. Old Friends Never Forgotten

**CHAPTER 29**

Old Friends Never Forgotten

"What is proper is not always right."

**Artakha – 4 BBY**

Xur, back in his heyday, was somewhat of an early riser, or at least he never let his days slip away via the comforts of his bed. His wife Trilla, however, certainly had the tendency to be out and about, sipping on caf by the time the sun breached the horizon. That habit dwindled away after giving birth to two children, now giving the sun a bit of a head start across the sky before she dared to drag her tired body out of bed.

Of course, that gave him ample time to snuggle into her after they both awoke, a little event he always looked forward to at the start of his day. He'd been able to enjoy this for six years uninterrupted as they continued their secluded life on the enigmatic world of Artakha, still far from the Empire's reach. Today his eyes had opened a little earlier than necessary, an odd dream pulling him from his sleep. When he noticed that he still had a few more hours to spend getting some rest, he shut his eyes and felt himself drift off again.

"Dad."

_No…_

Xur wished to shake his head and ignore the voice, but he knew his daughter was too smart for that to work. Forcing himself to turn over towards the side of the bed, he saw his six-year-old bronze-skinned daughter, her black hair always braided with a seemingly unfeeling expression on her face…dressed for combat training.

"Alhara…" Xur groaned groggily. "The sun's not even up yet."

Her green eyes didn't falter, and she merely shook her head. "I can't sleep. I want to go practice."

Xur grumbled in slight annoyance, increased by his current faltered state. "We'll practice in a few hours, hun. I promise."

She seemed to consider it for a moment, but then stubbornly shook her head. "I want to go now."

The zabrak felt his frustration blossom, but he was far too tempered as a father by now to lash out. "Go talk to Rava. I'm sure she'll train with you until I get out of bed."

"But Rava said you wanted to train early today."

Xur almost grit his teeth, but didn't, as he wasn't in the slightest angry with his daughter…more at the presumptuous bucket of bolts who had the audacity to lie about his preferences…certainly to spite him. He was still adamant about finding a way out of this anyhow.

"Why don't you go ask your sister?" he suggested.

Alhara looked at him like he was joking. "Katara would yell at me for waking her up."

That was a fair point. Alhara and Katara would certainly look out for each other, but at home…Katara had a tendency to be the mean older sister as much as possible, which drove Trilla utterly insane. She was getting better, but they still would get into fights, and Xur had been separating the two of them way more than he liked. They were never too nasty, but as Katara reached adolescence _and_ surpassed five feet in height, she had a risk of hurting her much smaller sister merely with her size.

It sometimes made him wonder if he and Zahira would've been the same way.

_Probably._

He _could_ ask Zahira to oblige her request, as she was also permanently based on Artakha, assisting Cal with the training of the next generation of Jedi, but that was a tall request, especially since he could very easily give his daughter what she wanted. Zahira loved spending time with her nieces, and they their aunt, but she was a busy woman, and a far greater person than her brother considered himself to be.

Now he was feeling _guilty_…_and_ his wife was now beginning to stir beside him.

"Dad…you said you'd get me ready for the _verd'goten_," Alhara reminded him, using the Mando'a word for the Mandalorian rite of passage…something he had _joked_ about to her the other day.

"Alhara…that was a joke…" he chuckled, just as he felt Trilla turn over, shaking the bed. "You're not a Mandalorian anyway."

"What is it now?" she asked, her voice far behind his in terms of restoration from sleep. "Alhara…is that you?"

"Mom, I want to go practice," she repeated, and Trilla wouldn't even need to see Alhara to know it was her speaking. She and Katara may be sisters, but their manner of speech was so drastically different, they were simple to pick out. Katara referred to Trilla with "Mama", "Mother" and very rarely just "Mom". Sometimes she even used the echani word for Mother, _Xokie_, while Xur, on the other hand, she only referred to as "Dad".

Alhara, however, strictly and _only_ called her "Mom", while referring to her father sometimes with the Mando'a word for parent, _Buir_. Why the two of them had a certain affectionate attachment to a specific parent probably had something to do with the fact that Xur was out of Katara's first four years of life, while he had virtually raised Alhara himself at times, making their disparity of accents rather astounding. One could perhaps never suspect the two of them to be related.

Trilla didn't seem to be in the mood to argue, and as she began to pull herself out of bed, that was when Xur knew he couldn't deny her any longer. He gently grasped Trilla's shoulder, "No…it's fine. I'll go with her."

His wife seemed indifferent, and merely slipped back into bed. "Just lock the door as you leave, and I'll probably send you a holocall in the morning to check on the two of you."

_In the morning…ugh._

Alhara had a glimpse of excitement in her green eyes. "I'll meet you out front, Dad."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure thing," he groaned, flipping onto his feet as she marched off. "Sure thing…"

In hindsight…he shouldn't be surprised.

She was _his_ daughter, after all.

* * *

**Dxun – 4 BBY**

Smoke, mirrors, deception…those three in the eyes of a Mandalorian, in an ideal galaxy, should be considered moot points and dishonorable engagements in any given conflict. However, in _this_ galaxy, those three were what helped a Mandalorian remain alive long enough to _have_ a conflict in the first place.

Especially one as prominent as Bo-Katan Kryze.

Onderon, Dxun's parent planet, was a hotbed for Imperial dissent, still raging with unrest since the Empire's inception, sparked by covert operations by powerful figures and prominent rebel leaders. Bo didn't consider herself a _rebel_ per se, more a patriot, a rightful advocate for proper Mandalorian conduct, which was lost with her sister's murder at the hands of a menace far more powerful than she.

So much damage…millennia of culture uprooted by one man in less than a decade, and she had nearly been virtually powerless to stop him. Smoke and mirrors had kept her alive long enough to see that man removed from Mandalore's throne, to get a taste of a free Mandalore for little more than a few months…until a man named Palpatine called himself Emperor and declared that their planet belonged to him.

For someone who so despised deception, she could not deny its results.

And yet, in all the hopelessness of the galaxy, a chance to take a step in the right direction had finally presented itself, and it involved contact with an old friend she certainly thought was dead.

"The last time I saw you, I still had to pan down my eyes," Bo remarked rather dryly. She was never one for humor, as it wasted time, but pleasantries were effective if kept to a reasonable minimum…and among friends, it almost felt necessary.

Ahsoka Tano was perhaps the exact opposite, interpreting her joke with a slight laugh and her arms crossed, unable to contain her smile. "_Sorry to inconvenience you_."

Bo nodded, letting her eyes wander around the darkened tent as she held the hologram before her. "I take it you got my message?"

Ahsoka nodded. "_Yes. It's slightly alarming, but I can't say the opportunity isn't worth it. My only question is, what do you want from me?_"

Bo figured she should be offended somewhat for Ahsoka not taking the implication, but she surmised the togruta had already accepted the deal, and was not trying to be presumptuous, otherwise she would've never responded in the first place.

"I'd like to know if you'll help me…and if you know anyone else. Maybe dig into that vast array of connections you have."

"_Of course I'll help you_," she implored, her expression concerned and all-in. "_But this isn't a grab and go operation. This takes an army…and a fleet. Those two things aren't just lying around outside of Hutt territory…much less people who are willing to fight the Empire—_"

"Ahsoka," Bo cut her off, her tone measured. "I want to know if you can get me in touch with the Galactic Alliance Admiral."

The togruta's eyes widened slightly, before letting her composure settle in. "_I see…_"

Her hesitation was uncharacteristic of her, and it had Bo somewhat unsettled. "Well?" she asked, masking it rather masterfully.

Ahsoka sighed, and by then Bo already knew she'd earned her meeting. "_I'll see what I can do. Meet me at the coordinates I'm sending you…and bring a few of your friends_."

* * *

**Artakha – 4 BBY**

Katara was awakened by the perpetual shining light from her window, and after rolling over in bed, her chrono relayed to her that it was approaching midday, and her eyes widened, fumbling to her feet. She never liked to waste her days in bed, as she'd rather be out exploring or at least _thinking_ about training. Never did she consider herself a "workaholic" as her parents would put it sometimes, and she enjoyed her recreational free time to do as she wished instead of sticking to a strict schedule.

Lying in bed all day ate out of that free time.

When she had finally left her room, rubbing her eyes free of the remaining grogginess that sullied her outlook, she blinked them into focus and took in their living room. Its spacious luxury was always a nice view, not to mention the glass end wall that looked out into a vast valley below them. Once again, however, it was occupied by the smells of spices and burnt meat in the morning…a byproduct of an occurrence that had grown better with time.

Her mother's cooking.

"Did you burn breakfast again?" Katara asked, leaning over the bar to the kitchen, where her mother already radiated slight annoyance in the Force.

"Snarky as always," she grumbled, but she could detect her acceptance of the joke, making Katara chuckle a bit. "Why don't you give your mother a chance to work?"

Katara smirked. "Dad would say," she altered her voice. "_Well that's not as fun_."

Trilla let out a laugh. "Yes, I imagine he would."

It was only then that she noticed that her father was _not_ on the couch with his datapad as usual, and she furrowed her brow. "Where _is_ Dad?"

"He went out training this morning with your sister," Trilla answered, her head engulfed in steam for a moment, before it disappeared, while the sound of searing meat blasted around the room.

Katara snorted. "_Again?_"

"Yes, darling, again," her mother confirmed, putting somewhat of an admonishing edge to her tone. "Don't go antagonizing her."

"I wasn't!" she protested, but her mother easily caught her lie, flashing her a warning glance that made her bow her head in slight shame. "Alright…"

"You should be nicer to your sister," Trilla continued, turning back to the pan while running her fingers through her black hair and readjusting the bun atop her head. "When you get older, she may be the only one you can trust."

Katara scoffed. "I can always trust you."

"You're missing the point, Katara. I won't always be—"

"Around to protect me, yeah, yeah," she bit back, annoyed with the same, tired old line her mother was using once again. "Well, Alhara isn't nice to me, so why should I?"

Trilla's shoulder's slumped, and Katara sensed an almost similar emotional reaction within her mother to the one _she_ had just experienced. "Because _you're_ the big sister. Believe it or not, Alhara looks up to you, follows your lead. If you treat her badly, she will think it is alright to return the favor."

Katara thought for a moment. It _did_ make sense, logically anyway, but she couldn't suppress a deep feeling of annoyance with just the image of her sister's face. Just the thought of Alhara going to, doing or saying whatever she wanted nestled an inbred feeling of injustice that Katara was powerless to suppress or ignore. It felt like instinct to enforce her will upon Alhara, to make her eat from her hand and obey her commands.

Then she had a thought.

"Aunt Zahira tells Dad what to do," Katara pointed out. "And they're both grown-ups."

Trilla let out a light chuckle at that. "While that is true, you are missing the crucial crutch of that. Zahira makes suggestions to your father that _sound_ like commands, but that is merely because she understands that is the only way to get him to _listen_. Also, your Aunt Zahira doesn't craft them in mean or deprecating ways."

Katara furrowed her brow in confusion. "Deprec…what?"

Trilla cleared her throat. "Deprecating means in a manner of condemnation, or shaming. Like, if I said 'shame on you' right now. That would be deprecating."

That made sense. She'd have to try it out later. Right now, she still had to convince her mother she was innocent, because she most certainly _was_. As to why…Katara hadn't figured that out yet.

"Promise me you will," Trilla pestered her further, flashing her a sideways glance, only making Katara cross her arms and look away. "Katara…"

"Fine," she bit out.

Her father and Alhara returned home about a half an hour later, just as Trilla finished cooking and had already set the table. Xur looked weary as he rounded the corner, lead by the dirty, soiled form of her sister, who was already locked on to the smell of breakfast on the table. Plopping her dirty pants and rear on the seat, she grabbed a fork and began to eat. Katara grimaced at her smell, but her mother's words held her tongue.

For a full three seconds.

"Alhara, you're gross. At least wash your hands," Katara whispered, hoping her mother didn't hear. When her sister merely ignored her, Katara forwent all composure. "_Alhara!_"

"Shut up Katara," Alhara retorted, her mouth full of food. "Go back to combing your hair."

Katara balled her fists and rose.

"Katara!" Trilla shouted, just as Xur disappeared into their room. "What did I say?"

"She didn't wash her hands, and she's gross!" Katara protested.

Trilla flashed her an admonishing look but turned to Alhara next. "Alhara, go wash your hands please."

Only then did Alhara finally do what she was told, but not before whispering "Tattle-tale," as she passed by Katara.

"Shut up, Alhara!"

Now Trilla marched to where she sat, her frustration so obvious on her face, and freakishly potent in the Force. "If I have to scold you one last time, you will spend the rest of the day in your bloody room, understand me?"

Katara bowed her head, still annoyed, but the threat made clear. "Yes, Mom."

It wasn't fair…nothing was.

* * *

Xur spat his toothpaste into the sink before watching it swirl down the drain and out of sight, before shutting off the water and drying his hands. The shower after a morning of training was always the greatest thing, as it made his muscles feel relaxed, that feeling of soreness that he was so addicted to.

Watching Trilla was perhaps more enticing than that, however…and over a decade of marriage had taught him when to know she was upset. It was usually when her expression was blank, displaying nothing but an internal dilemma, as well as heavy sighs and the continued ruffling of her hair.

She pulled out the wrap holding the bun above her head together, letting her black hair fall down to the top of her back, just between the pointed edges of her shoulder blades. Rubbing her eyes, she asked, "How did it go?"

Xur shrugged. "She's getting better…in fact she's _really_ good. Better than I ever was at her age."

"Force techniques?" Trilla asked, which she always did. He shook his head, which was the eternal answer to that question.

"She wanted to do all combat and a little bit of shooting…" he trailed off, and she let her head fall back with a groan.

"Xur, you know how I feel about her and bloody guns. She's six years old! She doesn't need to know how to fire a blaster," Trilla insisted in an annoyed tone, to which he remained calm.

"I know. We used the practice one with the stinger bolts. I don't plan on letting her shoot a blaster until she's at least approaching your height," he chuckled.

"Even then that might be too early," she slouched into the recliner positioned at the corner of their bedroom, taking a deep breath as she settled in. Once her eyes opened again, she did not speak, but merely stared his way, looking miserable.

"What's up?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Sometimes I hate being a mother."

Xur shrugged, pacing to their bed to take a seat, keeping his eyes fixed on her. "Katara's almost at that age. You see how tall she's getting."

Trilla rubbed her eyes. "I'm starting to wish we had a son instead of two daughters, that way _you_ would have to explain to them how procreation works."

The zabrak narrowed her eyes. "Who said I couldn't tell them about mag lev trains and airtight tubes?"

She rolled her eyes. "Menstrual cycles?"

"Fair point. That's all you. I don't know shit about the week in which all wives scream at their husbands."

Trilla flipped up her middle finger.

"Such as now," he added.

Dropping her hand, she shook her head slightly. "I keep forgetting how much of a cunt you are."

"It's part of the package."

Trilla granted him a small, amused smile before letting her head sway to the side, shutting her eyes. "I made breakfast, by the way."

"I saw. Thanks. I'll probably heat some up later."

She snorted. "One day my husband will eat my food with me."

"Save some for yourself. Problem solved."

Trilla's snappy retort was silenced by the approaching presence of Katara, who quietly opened the door with her head held low. Her embarrassment was obvious, because she did not lift her head until she was standing directly in front of Trilla, her hands clasped before her.

"I'm sorry for being…difficult, Mama," she apologized.

Trilla had never been an overly strict mother. Protective maybe, but she didn't have her children constantly doing chores or following some strict mandate. Xur was as laid back as it gets, letting his kids basically do whatever they wanted, as long as the house didn't burn down, while Trilla was more the voice of reason. She didn't want them talking back, cursing or arguing with each other, to which Xur agreed with the ladder, but she wasn't full "fun police" as the phrase went.

And she loved them so much…it always showed on her face, especially now.

"It's alright darling," Trilla gave her a relieved smile, and then reached out. "Come here."

They nestled in together, and it made Xur smile, only to have his mind pulled towards the beeping of his commlink. This was the usual time for his data review back to Vorchenko, so he instinctually activated it without thinking.

What appeared was a hologram of Ahsoka Tano.

"_Xur…I know it's been a long time, but if you're receiving this message, I want you to know that I wouldn't be asking you this if I didn't think it was important_," Ahsoka's message played, and he could feel Trilla's eyes harden even without seeing them. "_I've come back into contact with Bo-Katan Kryze, and she wants an audience with the Admiral…but I think this is bigger than that. I know you wanted to walk away from this fight…but…_" Ahsoka trailed off, letting her sentence linger and the holorecording capture her hesitation.

"_The Empire is up to something…and I don't think anyone will be safe if we don't act on this. We need you…both of you. Please get back to me…and…may the Force be with you._"

She disappeared as the message ended, and Xur felt his arm drop into his lap. It wasn't quite fear that ravaged him in this moment, but this was what he had been afraid of. There was going to come a moment where the galaxy could no longer tolerate his retirement, where the Empire would engage in something so egregious that he would have no choice but to return to the fight.

He didn't know what it was, but Ahsoka was no liar, and also not stupid enough to let someone impersonate her. Besides…he could feel it…a darkness rising within the Force, almost like a spreading plague waiting to infect the galaxy.

"Was that Ahsoka?" Katara asked.

Trilla kissed her daughter's forehead, ignoring her question. "Can you give your father and I a moment?"

She projected a look of dismay, but obeyed, and Xur felt Trilla's emotions rising with each step Katara took, before reaching their peak once the door was shut.

"I'm going to assume…that this form of contact with her was…_exclusive_," Trilla pointed out, and before Xur could protest, she raised one finger, leaning forward in her chair. "Xur, that's not what I'm upset about. I can see that look on your face. You're going to try to do this alone."

He grimaced. "Trilla…it's better if—"

"Stop," she spat. "Oh for the love of…just _stop_. I don't want to hear that garbage. I made you a promise…remember?"

Xur nodded. She was referring to the time in which she promised him to return to the fight when he was called on. He had no objections, but he couldn't help but ask, "What about them?"

Trilla rose to her feet, and by now, Xur knew this argument was already over.

"They're coming too."

* * *

**ISD **_**Valkyrie **_**– 4 BBY**

Bo Katan struggled to comprehend the ability of a third-party rogue fleet to sustain itself during the reign of the Empire, better yet one so large. Boasting nearly ten capital ships and nearly fifty frigates, the Galactic Alliance Fleet was the single largest independent force outside of Hutt space. Protected by numerous Senate sanctions and legal loopholes, according to what Ahsoka had told her, it had been able to operate free of direct engagement, so long as it essentially sat still.

She almost grimaced at the idea. To not fight was to forgo her way of life, as Mandalorians were judged by the strength of their enemies…but as of late, they had so many enemies to fight, their strength hardly mattered. The only reason she had agreed to come here in the first place was because her forces were stretched so thin, and if they could not execute this strike, then Mandalore would remain in chains indefinitely…and all the blood she had shed would be for nothing.

Ahsoka's composure was one to envy, showing little to no anxiety in her expression. She'd always been stoic around her, which she attributed to her Jedi personality, forgoing emotion and whatnot. Bo never understood it, and likely never would, but she could manage admiration for the grown adult before her anyhow. Like those from Mandalore, Ahsoka had to survive in a galaxy bent on exterminating her and her kind.

"Just a warning," Ahsoka's voice rang out of the silence, and Bo fell into a quick state of readiness, before letting it go once she shock wore off. "This friend I've called in…he…may look unsettling."

Bo cocked a brow. "Unsettling?"

"You'll see what I mean," Ahsoka frowned, keeping her gaze forward and arms crossed. "Just please let me do the talking at first."

No sweat off her back. She hated talking.

"Is there a reason you're telling me this?" Bo inquired, just as their shuttle powered down its engines and set its landing gear afoot.

"I just don't want you to shoot anyone just because they look slightly familiar," Ahsoka finally met her gaze. "That's all."

The autumn-haired warrior gave her one last trying glance, before leaving it be. "Noted."

Once the loading ramp lowered, Ahsoka descended with Bo just behind, and was followed by a small contingent of Mandalorian warriors. It was odd to see such a large hangar again, bustling with commotion and crewmen manning their stations. Had she not known any better, this could certainly be mistaken for an Imperial vessel, were it not for the gold and black emblem displayed via a large banner on the far side.

Instinct gripped her as her eyes fell, and she twitched for her blaster at the mere blurry sight of red, black and horns in a humanoid shape. She felt herself shiver, hearing his vile voice echo in her head once again.

_My lady, is that any way to treat your rightful ruler?_

"…_burn in Hell_," Bo cursed behind grit teeth and under her breath, the memories of the dead man finally fading away. Ahsoka flashed her a reminding glance before returning to the lead…and the cheer of a child pulled her into the present.

"Oh!" Ahsoka half-giggled, suffering the full brunt of a smaller body colliding into her arms. "Hello Katara."

Bo tuned out the rest of the greeting as her gaze finally fell on the man Ahsoka surely had been speaking of…a man who looked so similar to the one who had nearly destroyed her people. The zabrak, however, was without the black tattoos to cover his face…and was too tall to fit Maul's build.

As well as the fact he still had his legs.

"…catch up later, I promise," Ahsoka finished, just as the red skinned child stepped aside, her face tattooed slightly. "I need to talk to your father first."

Father…certainly explained the red skin. Bo could only assume that the lengthy woman standing beside the Maul lookalike had to be the child's mother, as upon close inspection, the resemblance was too uncanny. The couple looked formidable on their own, the woman even more so in some regards than the zabrak, her very stance commanding an intimidation that felt natural. Her expression seemed more displeased, while the man beside her looked refreshed, perhaps excited to get started.

Or…excited to see _Ahsoka_, which could possibly explain the woman's bitterness.

As Ahsoka finally freed herself from the child's grip, they approached the couple, and the togruta held out her hand. "Xur…Trilla…thanks for agreeing to see us."

The man who she assumed to have the more masculine of the two names, 'Xur', shook her hand without a second thought. "Of course…honestly, I've been itching for some action."

'Trilla' did not offer her hand to Ahsoka, to which Bo took note of for later.

Ahsoka stepped aside. "Bo Katan, this is Xur Eon and Trilla Suduri, both former Jedi like myself. Xur, Trilla, this is Bo Katan Kryze. She and I fought together during the Siege of Mandalore."

Xur regarded her closely, and then offered his hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Lady Bo Katan. I've heard a lot about you in my time."

The way he offered his hand was interesting and took Bo slightly by surprise…but it was a more proper Mandalorian shake, in which the two engaged grasped each other's forearms instead of their hands. She accepted it, and was glad she had not shot the man on sight merely because of his appearance.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I'd prefer that we got straight to business," she dropped her grip, letting her free arm dangle at her side. "I'm sure your Admiral is risking much by remaining here in open space."

"Indeed," Trilla finally spoke, her accent making Bo's ears perk for a moment at its Imperial bearings, before dismissing it.

"Works for me," Xur shrugged, and then turned towards the hangar exit. "This way."

Bo almost let her sigh of relief free itself, but once she began to follow the ground, she felt her knee collide into something stiff…like duraplast.

Looking down, she spotted another child, this one younger than the last, wearing crudely assembled armor over her small body. Her green eyes instilled within Bo kindling for a pyre, and while the girl with black cornrows for hair barely reached her waist in height…she felt as if she was staring directly back at her on even ground.

The Mandalorian had no idea what to say, other than, "You need to watch where you're standing, kid."

"You're _Mand'alor_, aren't you?"

The question froze Bo in her tracks, her heart stung by a knife that tore fresh open an old wound she had forgotten was there. Her tongue ran dry, her confidence shattered…all via one question uttered from a little girl's mouth.

She stammered, "N-no…I'm not…" and then tried to push past her, only to find the girl remaining in her way.

"Are you Mandalore's leader?" the girl asked, her voice lower-pitched than she expected. "I want to find Mandalore's leader."

Bo snorted. "So do I, kid."

When the girl would still not let her pass, drawing the attention of some of the other Mandalorians, that was when Trilla's voice emerged to save her.

"Alhara!" she called; her expression somewhat livid. "Get over here and leave her alone."

Alhara let her head droop, making Bo think to bite her lip in mild pity. "_Ni ceta_," the girl apologized in Mando'a, and then stomped off, not looking the least bit pleased to have to bend to her mother's will.

A snort followed by her right ear, just behind her, and the familiar female voice of her right hand, the most recent member of the Nite Owls, huffed, "Interesting little girl. Had the guts to talk to you like that."

"She's too young to know better, Nara," Bo waved off, letting her sideways glance meet the red-visored Mandalorian.

"Too young to know better _and_ speak Mando'a?" Nara retorted.

Bo had no response, and then realized how pointless it all was. "Come on. We've got work to do."

Still…she couldn't deny the oddness of the encounter…or the intense intrigue she was trying to hide. There was something about that girl…something she saw deep inside her soul that reached up and gripped her heart.

That would not be the last time they crossed paths.

* * *

Xur had known Vorchenko since he was a teenager, and in those fifteen years he had come to know her as no-nonsense, but not strict to the point in which those who served her had to develop a sense of loathing. She was well respected by her peers, at least during the Republic, a staunch supporter of the Jedi Order, and underneath her stoic guise was the heart of a good woman.

But she was certainly an opportunist…and she was indifferent towards Mandalorians.

Xur had already warned Ahsoka beforehand, as there was no way in hell Vorchenko would agree to this plan without receiving a formal agreement of alliance between the GA and Mandalore. From her eyes, it was a no brainer, as it would certainly end with a formal invasion of Mandalore itself…but Xur knew Mandalorians. They would not give up their independence with merely a promise, and they were certainly weary of outside influence.

He kept himself prepared for a shouting match…perhaps even drawn blasters, which was why he had asked his daughters to remain outside and watched by Antaria, Vorchenko's echani guardian. She certainly had no qualms about being with them, as she had watched at least Katara many times before…but Xur imagined Alhara would sneak her way in, especially with her dogmatic interest in Bo Katan already. No amount of scolding from he or Trilla would stop her now…as her brutal stubbornness knew no bounds.

"Through my contacts, I've been monitoring Imperial movements and supply runs," Ahsoka continued to speak as they surrounded the holotable on the bridge, Vorchenko regarding the hologram closely, while Trilla watched from beside her. "Usually a lot of this is typical behavior; meaningless data…but I began to notice a pattern," she directed, and then displayed a pathway leading from Mandalore to the planet Botajef. "Recently, most shipments from Mandalore are being rerouted to Botajef, which are then transported in large quantities directly back to Coruscant."

"And most goods are dropped at Brentaal before reaching the capital," Trilla added. "But you're saying an increased volume is bypassing that stop."

Ahsoka nodded. "Right. After discovering that, I sent one of my agents to investigate, and they reported that the Empire has been shipping large amounts of the _beskar_ alloy to Botajef to be repackaged, forged down to size and taken directly to Coruscant."

Vorchenko stopped massaging her chin with her thumb, letting her wrist hang. "You have this intel on good authority?"

The togruta nodded without hesitation. "Very."

The admiral turned to Bo, who stood with her helmet under her arm. "Mandalorian raids could easily seize your rightful property from the Empire, and in some cases, I would say it would be more effective than sending an entire fleet…if of course, that is why you are here, sharing this with us."

Bo let her eyes pan downwards for a moment, before beginning. "We've executed a few raids, but by now the Empire has stepped up security, bringing in some of the loyal Mandalorians from Clan Saxon to defend the convoys. They are also now transported by Imperial Star Destroyers instead of frigates, which outguns everything we have."

"I'm sure there are certain rebel cells who would be more than willing to accommodate you," Vorchenko offered.

"Anyone in range of Mandalore isn't nearly strong enough to support us, and even if they were, I couldn't be sure we wouldn't be sabotaged from the inside. The Empire is taking these shipments seriously, and the Alliance Fleet is the best chance we have at stopping it," Bo countered. "I am proposing a joint operation. It is my understanding that your Alliance wishes to begin a full-scale open attack upon Imperial forces along the Outer Rim. This is a chance to not only hurt the Empire's economy, but to hopefully drum up support for dissent across the galaxy."

Vorchenko regarded Bo's proposition with analytical eyes, and Xur thus far didn't see much of an issue with assisting the Mandalorians…but his job was to kill things, while _she_ called the shots, so he preserved his knowledge of his place.

"If the Alliance aids you in your attack, we would be forgoing our Senate treaties with the Empire, which will not stop them from openly hunting us down. We could effectively be throwing away everything we have tried to build thus far," Vorchenko said, letting her arms fall behind her back. "Some of my allies would forgo our alliance out of fear of retaliation."

Bo leaned forward, her eyes intent and demanding. "The Emperor has made many promises to many people across the galaxy and has broken most if not all of them. How long until he decides he no longer needs to Senate to rule his Empire? What will be left of your treaty then?"

The admiral furrowed her brow. "It is not wise to base our strategy and reactions off events that _may_ occur…but you make a compelling point. I had no intention of bending to the Empire's will…and if they knew_ I_ was in command of the Alliance Fleet, we would not be in this position anyhow…"

Bo and Ahsoka shared promising glances, while Trilla looked more lost in thought than anything else. Xur would've already agreed to help them anyway, and by now he was already running through his head what he would need to requisition for the effort.

"But the fact still remains," Vorchenko continued. "I find our secrecy to be a vital asset while we continue to gather strength…and this effort does not constitute enough of a gain in exchange for our exposure."

"I agree, unfortunately," Trilla chimed in. "The risk factors do not balance in our favor particularly well."

_Fancy words for lopsided deal._

By now, Bo was already clenching her fist against the holotable, but Ahsoka jumped in before she could lash out in annoyance. "What could Mandalore offer in return?"

"It's not a matter of resources or payment," Vorchenko shook her head. "You are asking us to expose ourselves—"

"Nothing is exposed if we aren't a part of it," Xur interrupted, playing on a theory as he took command of the holotable. "Most of the GA fleet is repurposed starships and outdated clone wars models. If we merely provided the Mandalorians with the craft, as well as volunteers to man the crews, there would be no proof implicating the Alliance, and even if a ship _were_ captured, it could merely destroy itself.

"If we're going to hit the Empire one day, having the Mandalorians indebted to us will be extremely handy when the time comes…and it's all for a couple of ships out of your fleet. If anyone is getting ripped off, it's them."

Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

Vorchenko inhaled and let out a deep sigh. "How many?"

"Five," Bo answered.

"Two," Vorchenko countered.

Xur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fuck sake, give them four."

Vorchenko shrugged with resignation, caving to Xur's request. "Very well. But who will command this contingent? I am not committing such forces without a trusted advisor."

The zabrak snorted. "What do you think I'm here for, to stand and watch?"

Now Vorchenko's annoyance was starting to show, and Xur wisely shored up his attitude, and instead gave her a curt nod when she flashed him one of her half-glares.

"Very well…you'll get your ships, Kryze," Vorchenko agreed, somewhat begrudgingly. "And my General."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, shutting the door behind her without a second word. Bo Katan looked halfway shocked at the turn of events, but it didn't show long, the muscles around her eyes hardly shifting at all. "I'll be at our ship," the Mandalorian tipped her head. "Don't keep me waiting long."

Xur suppressed a snort. "I won't."

As the room finally cleared of all but Xur and his wife, Trilla finally loosened her stance, letting a huff escape her lungs.

"You are…a fucking cunt, you know that?" Trilla spat.

The zabrak blinked, stunned. "…_why?_"

Her stern gaze met him, letting her gloved left hand grip the edge of the holotable tightly. "You just took complete advantage of Reyna's respect for you and pressured her into giving up far more than she was comfortable with…all to placate a request from some woman we've never met and…" she growled. "…_Tano_."

Xur groaned in tiresome resignation. "By the _fucking _Force, are you _serious_? It's been almost two decades! Let it go."

Trilla shook her head but did not respond to him harshly. Years of speaking to him had taught her that his tone was not confrontational, even if it sounded as such. "Just understand how I feel about this, and do not be upset with me if I'm rather…_harsh_."

"Trilla…you don't have to—"

"_Don't_ do that," she pointed with a stern finger, facing him fully. "I'm coming with you. Conversation settled."

Xur narrowed his eyes. "And our _kids?_"

"I am sure Antaria would not mind spending more time with them."

The zabrak pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's not _her_ that I'm worried about."

* * *

"You can't leave us here! It's…_boring!_"

Katara's protest pulled Trilla's eyelids over her emerald irises in emotional exhaustion, trying her best not to shout down her ten-year-old daughter. Why in hell she agreed to do this _without_ her husband beside her was another question.

"I am sure the Admiral will find _plenty_ for you to do around here to keep you occupied," Trilla kept her fists planted against her hips as she towered over the smaller spawn of herself.

Katara flashed her a disgusted look. "What? _Chores?_ Mom!"

"Stop whining," Alhara bit from her seat across the room, but looked no more pleased than her sister.

"Shut up, weirdo!"

"Hey!" Trilla bellowed, letting her voice resonate. "What did I tell you about name-calling your sister?"

Katara bowed her head, even if she still wore an expression of scorn. "Sorry," she bit out.

The groan that escaped the mother of two was harsh and hardly suppressed. "Will you two _please_ learn to stop arguing with one another? You two are _sisters_…you have to learn to get along."

"We _do_ get along," Katara insisted, but earned a reserved pout from Alhara.

"No we don't."

"Shut _up!_"

"You are _only_ proving her point, Katara," Trilla grasped her daughter's upper arm, pulling her for her attention…but quickly realized her growing annoyance was only worsening the situation. Instead, she took a deep, calming breath, and then projected feelings of ease and calm into the Force, hoping that her children would pick up on its suggestion.

Taking a knee before Katara, she gestured for Alhara to approach, and only when they both stood before her did she begin to speak in a warm, motherly tone.

"I love you both…so dearly. Do you understand that?"

They both nodded, Katara's hiding her continued detest, and Alhara's making no effort to hide her indifference.

"One day you'll both grow up to be inspiring, powerful young women, and I have truly cherished the chance I've had to watch you both for such a long time," she continued, making sure her gaze remained on each of them. "But…that time of freedom may have come and gone, and more than ever will both of you need to learn that you have to watch out for each other. As much as I may wish to…I won't always be around to watch over you."

That admission broke her heart slightly, but she didn't let the emotions break her moment. "Katara…you need to be looking out for your little sister—"

"I don't need someone to look out for me," Alhara insisted.

"And I'm sure that is the case, darling, but that isn't the point," Trilla softly gripped the little girl's shoulder. "You two will _always_ be stronger if you stand together, just as how your father and I are stronger when _we_ stand together."

"But you and Dad argue too, Mama," Katara pointed out.

"Sure, but no matter how upset we are with one another, we still love each other," she countered. "We still _protect_ each other."

"I didn't say I wanted to hurt Alhara," Katara shook her head. "Just sometimes…_ugh_."

Alhara just crossed her arms, looking away.

"Alhara doesn't like it when you boss her around, Katara," Trilla pointed out. "You may be her big sister, but that doesn't mean you can tell her what to do."

Katara let her head droop. She had a good heart, Trilla knew this, and she knew her words were getting to her.

"But Alhara can also find better ways to stop this other than antagonizing you," Trilla let her tone waver over to the armored little girl. "Because that only makes it worse."

Alhara snorted, continuing to look away.

"_Alhara_…"

"Okay," she finally said. "Whatever."

Katara balled up her fists. "See?!"

Trilla's mistake was letting her frustration peek through for only a moment…and that was all it took.

"Alhara…" she warned again…and eared a fury-induced whirl around from her daughter.

"You always do this, Mom! Always taking her side. Always making me look like the bad person!" she shouted. "You think I'm a weirdo too, don't you?! Sorry Mom, but I'm not the girly girl you wanted me to be!"

Trilla hardly knew how to react. This was a _first_ for Alhara…always the quiet one…never one to burst out into a tirade of anger. It was so out of character, Trilla was still fishing out the words from her mind as Alhara continued.

"I've always wanted to meet a Mandalorian, but all you do is try to hide me and baby me! Why can't you just be like Dad?! Why can't you just let me be me?!"

"Alhara!" Trilla shouted her down, which was the final mistake, as she soon realized. "Do not shout at me…"

"What are you going to do?" Alhara challenged. "You're already grounding us here on this spaceship while you and Dad go help people. How much worse could you make it? Go on! Yell at me! I'm not scared!"

Alhara's chest was puffed out in a confrontational stance, her eyes dominated by a fury all too familiar to her, an immovable stalwart bastion that could not even be broken by her own mother. Something inside her had finally snapped, and Trilla had no idea how to quell it.

"Don't yell at Mom!" Katara finally jumped in, seemingly emboldened now. "She loves you and takes care of you!"

"No she doesn't!" Alhara spat. "All she does is _hold me back!_"

The door behind Trilla slid open before she could respond. "What the hell is going on in here?"

It was Xur, and Trilla once again could not even speak before Alhara began. "Mom is yelling at me just because I don't want to be babied anymore!"

The zabrak gave her one glance before returning his eyes to Alhara. "Okay, everyone just calm down," he eased, but his voice making it obvious that it wasn't a request. Shutting the door, he came around, standing to the side but in between the two of them. "Now, what's the problem?"

Trilla rose to her full height, bearing no interest in explaining herself or feeling a need to win over her own husband. Her decision was her decision, and she had no intention of going another way. "Alhara is making her feelings about me very…clear," she said, and couldn't stifle the lump growing in her throat. "I asked the two of them to get along, and then Alhara began to criticize me for supposedly maintaining a short leash. It is settled. There is no need to—"

"Now you're _lying?_" Alhara grit her teeth, and Trilla shut her eyes at the hurt those words carried.

"Alhara…it's okay to be upset," Xur granted. "But it's not okay to yell at your mother. Whatever you're trying to prove or achieve here, that isn't the way to do it."

She envied his composure, and desperately wished to forget this ever happened.

Xur's words seemed to resonate within her far deeper than hers ever did, and Alhara finally seemed to lose that fury in her eyes, instead just crossing her arms and looking at the floor.

"Look hun," Xur eased. "I know you were excited about meeting a Mandalorian, but this thing your mother and I are about to do is too dangerous for you. I promise…when you get a little older, you'll be out there with us…fighting."

This time, Alhara didn't seem to care much, and simply turned away. "You're leaving us here, aren't you? So just go."

"Alhara," Xur reached out, but with much less force than Trilla ever had.

"Just go!"

Trilla knew her daughter. At this point, no amount of force, fear or easing would pull Alhara now. Unclenching her fist, she knelt, giving Katara a warm hug and leaving the two of them to the care of Antaria.

Left to wonder why her daughter didn't think she loved her.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this beginning of the next step in Inquisition! I can't tell you how relieved I am to finally have some direction, and all I can say is, strap yourselves in. It's going to be a fun, bumpy ride, I can promise you that.**

**See y'all soon and stay safe!**


	47. Proving Ground

**CHAPTER 30**

Proving Ground

"You are your own most vile critic."

**Botajef – 4 BBY**

Stealth tech had been a special commodity during the Clone Wars, something used only for large frigates that could generate enough power to maintain such a field. While cloaking was older than many, many millennium, stealth itself was a newer concept, as instead of requiring massive amounts of energy to hide a ship, it could instead be compiled of materials that kept it off radars and sensor arrays. The idea itself wasn't new, but spacecraft created with matte-black fiberplast strong enough to hold a full frame, machinery, cargo and living beings _was_, and only at the inception of the Empire was the concept formulated and implemented.

Ahsoka had been crafty enough to "borrow" a pair of stealth gunships courtesy of the Empire.

Standing in a gunship itself full of friendly combatants was liberating, especially ones she knew so well. For over a decade she had been somewhat of a recluse, stuck to her information hordes and coordination of various efforts against the Empire, and she had missed the excitement of field work. This was hardly something as simplistic as _field work_, but Ahsoka felt that with the people that had, this operation actually had a chance.

Still, those good spirits and confidence was soiled by an overwhelming, brooding presence in the Force, coming mostly from a person Ahsoka had never been able to win over.

Trilla Suduri.

The wife of one of Ahsoka's oldest comrades and fellow former Jedi had never liked her much to begin with, and after the horrible experiences she had at the hands of the Empire, those harsh feelings had only worsened. While Ahsoka had made progress, a full turnaround was becoming less and less likely as the _years_ continued, as it had hit a point in which the burden had fallen on Trilla's shoulders to close the gap…and she truly had no need to.

In truth, why would she? Ahsoka was hardly a blink in her life, merely a source of bad memories and deep insecurities that she most likely would rather not confront. The togruta had no ill-will towards her, and she never had, as Trilla was actually an inspiring figure, in her eyes. To suffer so much, and not just overcome, but also _thrive_ was incredible, and a true testament to her willpower.

And her children were the most beautiful creatures Ahsoka had ever seen. She loved Katara like her own, and Alhara had a look in her eye so familiar…it almost made her feel nostalgic. The little girl wanted to be a warrior…to fight on the front lines and protect those in need of her sword. Even at the age of six, she casted a long, protective shadow over all she surrounded, and the demeanor she maintained reminded her so much of her father…as well as the armored woman standing beside her.

But it was the subject of Alhara that seemed to be souring the vibe within the gunship, and as for why, Ahsoka was unsure. She at least seemed to be getting along with Xur alright, which was a good sign for the success of their mission, as well as Ahsoka's sanity.

Bo Katan checked her gauntlet for a moment, and then looked up. "Hang on," she directed, grabbing ahold of the overhead handle.

Ahsoka was nearly bucked over as her fingers wrapped around the above support, her stomach lurching as she wasn't given a chance to brace herself. Still, the gunship remained relatively quiet, especially compared to the mass Republic models Ahsoka had become so accustomed to back in the day.

"Have we been spotted?" Ahsoka asked, just as the gunship began to stabilize.

"If we'd been spotted, you would know it," Bo assured, keeping her eyes forward. "Clan Ordo has a forward camp in an abandoned industrial complex. The Empire hasn't bothered to seize complete control of the planet, only the major port cities, so we've been able to maintain a base here for our initial scouting."

Ahsoka furrowed her brow in thought. "That's what I thought, but from what I've been able to gather, the Empire is clamping down hard, expecting to have the entire planet under lockdown by the end of the galactic year."

"Which is why this is so important," Bo maintained her grip as the gunship turned again, evening out much smoother this go around. "I won't let the Empire continue to take from us."

The togruta gave her a confident nod and grasped her shoulder. "No…we won't."

The gesture was somewhat of a risk, but Ahsoka had resonated enough to Bo Katan that she knew there would be no ill reaction. It had been over a decade since their efforts on Mandalore, just before everything changed so drastically and so quickly, but they both managed to make it here, fighting together once again.

After Ahsoka lowered her hand, Bo cocked her head for a moment. "What do you know about…their youngest?"

It took a moment for Ahsoka to realize she was talking about Xur's daughter, and then looked to the back of the gunship, where the couple was well out of earshot. "You mean Alhara? Admittedly, I know more about their oldest than her…and I don't spy on _them_. My guess is probably no better than yours. Why?"

Bo let her head straighten. "When we arrived, and you had already started heading for the bridge, she stepped in my path and asked me if I was _Mand'alor_," she said, and Ahsoka caught the sound of Bo's gloves squealing against the handle, not to mention to outcry of dismay within her Force aura. "She said she wanted to find them."

Ahsoka blinked, and then gave her a smirk. "It just goes to show the feeling of a leader you give off."

The Mandalorian's jaw tensed, and already Ahsoka knew she had said the wrong words. "I'm no leader."

Her smirk long faded, Ahsoka grimaced. "In my experience…the choice is never yours."

She didn't respond immediately, and before Ahsoka could make the assumption that she was beginning to get on her nerves, Bo shook her head and flatly agreed.

"No."

* * *

When they finally touched down at their staging point, Bo Katan and Nara were left with the duties of squaring away their respective stealth gunships while Ahsoka, Xur and Trilla went on ahead to get a head start on delivering their intelligence to her fellow leaders. Since Bo was well aware of all developments on Botajef, she had taken the time to center her mind and prepare for the battle that was surely to come to a head. While she'd never meditated, she preferred taking walks alone to contemplate her strengths, but more importantly her weaknesses. She found utilizing imagination to prepare her mind to act on instinct had perhaps saved her life in a few cases.

Tonight, however, she merely wished for a chance to escape the memories that Ahsoka's presence had brought forward. It was always a risk she considered, as her only times with the togruta were those poised against Maul and his Shadow Collective…some of the most traumatic years of her life. Not even the betrayal of Clan Saxon and their sell-out to the Empire could compare to the loss of Mandalore to a monster, the murder of her leader, or the death of her…

Only then did she realize that whatever she was doing _wasn't _working.

Letting out an irritated sigh, she activated her jetpack just enough for her to jump atop the gunship, carrying the tarp along with her and then landing on the other side. Taking a knee, she hammered each corner into the ground via a stake, securing the cover in place.

Dusting off her hands, she turned back to the ramp and entered the cabin, making sure they had not left anything important behind. She rummaged over various empty bags, and only when she activated her helmet light did she notice the pile of supplies still in the corner.

She slumped and emitted a growl behind her helmet. "_Dammit_…" before proceeding to reach for the first bag.

Something squirmed within, making Bo jump back with her blaster drawn until the bag revealed the form of a young, humanoid child.

It was Alhara.

With a huff as her heart stopped beating at an unhealthy rate, Bo lowered her blaster. "Kid, are you crazy? I could've shot you."

Alhara didn't look the least bit frightened, and Bo figured shocked was a better word, as the child had no words for her. Merely looking up with her emerald eyes, Alhara appeared as if she was awaiting judgment before even explaining herself.

"How did you get on the gunship?" Bo asked, holstering the blaster. "Not just anyone can sneak past me."

"I-I didn't have to," Alhara finally answered, still sitting on her rear. "I—"

Bo's reflexes jerked as her ears perked up, flipping around with her blaster in hand at the sound of footsteps. She was greeted in the same fashion, but the red visor and Mandalorian helmet checked off her friendly stand down order. With so many years of training, most if not all of Bo's movements were instinctual and quick, threat analysis taking all but mere moments before she knew whether to shoot or speak.

Seeing Nara's form wasn't enough, however. She checked mannerisms, her ready stance, even the way her finger wrapped around the trigger. In a matter of moments, she could pick out an imposter and eliminate them…or she could play along and eliminate them in time.

This, however, was certainly her second in command.

"Nara…" Bo warned, but let her blaster sag in her grip. "Want to tell me what the kid is doing here?"

After a moment, Nara lowered her own blaster and slumped, letting out a sigh behind her helmet. She had a small helmet in her hand, filled with a bundle of clothing and light armor. "_Shit_…you weren't supposed to find out."

"Well," Bo shrugged, holstering her weapon. "I found out."

Nara knew she wasn't about to be scolded, so she paced forward and knelt before Alhara. "Are you alright? Sorry about the bag."

"It's okay," Alhara nodded.

"You'd better start explaining what's going on," Bo pointed towards her counterpart. "Because this is going to come down on _my_ head when you get caught. Not only does this certainly fall under the category of _kidnapping_, but you may have just cost us the four frigates covering out _escape_," she felt her voice rising, the gravity of this transgression becoming more apparent. "This girl may as well be fucking royalty, as far as Mandalore is concerned, because if we ruin a possible good relationship to the Admiral's right-hand man, we will _never_ see Galactic Alliance resources _again_."

"Alhara asked me to help her escape, so I did," Nara replied unapologetically. "And don't start giving me that _pe'nr osi'kyr_ that you give a damn about all the politics."

"Nara, that isn't the point!" Bo shout whispered. "Even _if_ none of that fallout happens, her mother will still try to _kill us!_"

Nara looked to Alhara…who bowed her head and looked away. "Is your mother a little crazy?"

"A little," Alhara admitted.

"Hm. Would've been nice to know that you little schutta," Nara bit out, and then looked back to Bo. "Alright fine, I screwed up, but we can't send her back."

"I'll just go tell my Mom," Alhara offered, rising to her feet. "I don't want you guys to get in trouble."

"If you didn't want us to get in trouble, you wouldn't have asked Nara to help you escape," Bo pointed out.

Alhara bowed her head. "Sorry…I just…I've been…I've been training my whole life for this."

"For what?" Bo asked.

"The _verd'goten_," Nara answered for her, and Bo felt her eyes bulge just a moment. "She wanted a chance to prove herself worthy of continuing her training as a Mandalorian. That's…why I helped her…plus her sister is a pain in the ass."

"Right?" Alhara agreed, and the two shared a fist bump…which made Bo smile a little wider than was proper.

"I'm guessing that's why you brought a bundle of cadet armor," Bo's boot tapped the collection in Nara's grip. "You were going to have her spend the mission with the other recruits her age."

"You know me so well Bo-Bo," Nara quipped, making Bo shake her head and place her right hand on her hip.

"And if she gets hurt, if she winds up missing or worse captured by the Empire, what were you going to tell her parents?"

Bo could tell Nara was rolling her eyes. "I was never going to let that happen…and now that you know, it _definitely_ won't be happening."

_You scheming little bitch._

Kryze partly wanted to gouge her own eyes out…but she couldn't deny an internal feeling of familiarity in this girl. Here sat a child, desiring nothing more than to become a warrior…a _fighter_, or just whatever her parents were _not_, and was willing to defy them at such a young age to earn that chance.

_That time for our world, our culture, has passed, Bo. It is time you allowed yourself to let go of your primitive instincts…and evolve._

Her sister's words echoed, rattling in her skull as they aroused that same doubt she had felt when she was no older than Alhara was now. She would've given anything to wear the armor she now bore…even lie…even steal…even murder…

Even become a terrorist.

Bo lifted her helmet from her head, taking a knee before Alhara. "Look…_Alhara_…there is nothing easy about being a Mandalorian. Not everyone will want to help you, and some may even want to kill you. You may not see it now…but you have something you may never get back once you turn away from it…"

_You have a family, Bo. Your place is with us._

"…once you walk away from your family…you may never see them again until it's too late," she admitted, and the girl merely watched, continuing to listen.

_You can't just leave us. You can't just walk away!_

Bo bowed her head, and against her better judgment, continued. "I'm going to go along with this…but I need you to promise me that you will keep that in mind. We can't accept you without the approval of your parents…as it violates certain traditions and codes…but I'm going to give you a chance."

Alhara sprang up, her eyes glowing. "Thank you! I promise _Mand'alor_…y-you won't regret it. I'll show you. I'm ready!"

Bo's expression faltered for a moment, shaken by the use of the title once again, but she shook it off. Rising back to her feet and pulling her helmet back over, she gestured to Nara. "Get her in that armor and _don't_ take your eyes off her. Consider that your punishment for this."

Nara huffed, and then began to help Alhara do just that. "Right, right. I'm sure you have a meeting to get to."

She did, and with one last nod to Alhara as they shared a glance, she turned away and left them to their deception. Anyone sane would tell her this was a horrible idea, and in truth, it was…but it had to be done.

Too much of herself existed within that girl.

* * *

To Trilla's relief, the briefing did not last long, as it was a mere recitation of the intel they had gone over on the _Valkyrie_. She'd never liked being around too many people, and that only worsened with her secluded life on Artakha. More than six eyes on her was something she hadn't experienced in almost six years, as well as the prospect of disagreeing with someone that wasn't her child or her husband.

She had to be diplomatic…_proper_…willing to stay her hand when another was so obviously wrong or far too incompetent to hold their position. Many of these Mandalorians were trigger-happy brutes instead of analytical warriors, save for Bo Katan to a degree, and listening to their tired, rah-rah speeches made her sick…but if the Empire truly was up to something distasteful, then she could tough it out.

But that wasn't why she was brooding.

How could her daughter think she didn't _love_ her?

Trilla couldn't possibly explain how much she loved her children, _both_ her children, as they continued to remain a testament to her freedom. After being a slave to the Empire for so many years, Katara and Alhara were living proof that she had bested _and_ grown beyond that dark and destitute time…as well as the joy she had at meeting a man like her husband. Love truly transcended unbreakable barriers…crossing vast distances throughout the galaxy, eternally linking individuals through their hearts. That hadn't been all that had saved Trilla, but without it…

She tried not to dwell on her fate if it hadn't remained in her heart.

When she gave birth to Katara…it was a different kind of pain. Rava had told her that cross-species births between humanoids were always messier than otherwise, as it required special procedures to properly deliver the child. Still, it was simple enough to be done, but she had chosen not to take any pain dampeners of the sort, as that was most ideal to avoid a possible miscarriage.

Despite all that hardship, not to mention the withdrawals from her alcohol addiction and the constant nightmares that she still suffered somewhat until this day…holding her firstborn daughter in her arms was the most incredible experience of her life. She held a piece of herself in her hands…a _tangible_ piece of proof that she _could_ have a future. Alhara had been no different, and if anything, it was the final stamp of approval that she was a mother.

Trilla had known Alhara would be different. She was quiet but not soft spoken, showing little to no emotion. Her crying was short-lived, even when she was born, always stalwart and undaunted. Katara was the exact opposite in many ways, full of emotion, loud and prideful, smart and witty, a true mix of her mother and father.

Despite this, Trilla swore she never treated them any different. She had no reason to, not when she loved them equally.

Did she? _Did_ she love them equally?

_No she doesn't! All she does is hold me back!_

"Oh Alhara…" Trilla whimpered to herself. "What have I done?"

No matter how she looked at it, she could not fathom an explanation for Alhara's feelings, other than the face value of them. It was a shank to her heart, one that remained within the vital organ and bled her dry of any delusions of being a worthy and loving mother…one that struck at the very core of her new identity.

One that called to the dark…one that fed life into the dead corpse that was the Second Sister.

These were the thoughts that crossed her mind as she watched the group of young Mandalorian recruits from a distance. She couldn't help but spot the armored woman that had constantly followed Bo Katan in protective fashion, the one that bore similar markings upon her helmet, aside from the visible red visor contrasting her blue armor. Beside her was another child, although this one had their face covered, their height so similar to Alhara it almost made her grit her teeth in annoyance.

She just needed to complete this mission…then she could decipher why.

"It's…been a long time since Onderon…" a voice she so desperately wanted to avoid hearing at this very moment spoke, and she stifled a groan. Flashing a half glance, Trilla confirmed that it was indeed Ahsoka Tano who had come to speak to her.

She had no words, other than a desire for her to disappear…but she had no qualms either. "Indeed," was all she granted her. "You're looking a little different."

Ahsoka shrugged. "A byproduct of time, I think."

"Such is the nature of things," Trilla turned away, looking back towards the children. "What can I do for you?"

The togruta had her answer long prepared, it seemed. "I'm interested in your take on all this. You usually have informed opinions."

_A compliment?_

Trilla silently applauded her for the respect, but then again figured it was likely a tactic to get her to talk, which Ahsoka was no one to shrug at in terms of data gathering as it seemed. Her answer was never going to be the entire truth, as only Xur was ever granted such an honor, but Ahsoka wasn't vindictive or much of a harmful opportunist, so she let on a bit more than usual.

"I am not sure. While _beskar_ is certainly a valuable resource and pinnacle to Mandalorian culture, the Alliance has little to gain from this operation, and it risks certain exposures to Imperial retaliation," Trilla revealed. "Not to mention the fact that Kryze has not offered a formal alliance as part of the terms."

Ahsoka frowned slightly. "She's insular…but I can hardly blame her. Bo Katan hasn't exactly had it easy, to say the least. Despite that, she's about as trustworthy as it comes, and if you ever need a job done…she's the one to call, without a doubt."

"She's certainly passionate about her people," Trilla finally turned her gaze to Ahsoka, tearing them from the recruits and the thoughts of her daughter. "I admire that."

"It's funny," Ahsoka looked amused for a moment. "When she and I met, she tried to kill me."

Trilla huffed. "You're forgetting that I actually _killed_ my husband."

Ahsoka didn't laugh, but Trilla sensed her late acceptance of the edgy joke through the Force, leaving them to an awkward stare that Trilla was enjoying far too much.

"I guess that's a…fair point," Ahsoka rubbed the back of her neck for a moment, before shaking off Trilla's half tease. "But anyway, I worked with her during the Siege of Mandalore, just as the war ended."

"You two certainly seem like you've spent time together…but Kryze does not come off as the friendly type."

"She's more friendly than you might think…but you're also right. She and I have a more _mutually-beneficial_ relationship than an actual friendship."

"I see," Trilla noted. "Someday I perhaps would like to hear the story as to how you went from trying to kill each other, to mutually beneficial allies."

"You'd probably be bored by it, as you proved earlier," Ahsoka quipped, giving her a smile.

Trilla smiled back and returned her attention to the recruits for a moment, before letting a chuckle work its way up her throat.

"Most likely."

* * *

"Lady Kryze…a moment?"

Bo Katan felt her senses irked for a moment, but the quick grasp on her blaster didn't remain. Noticing the red-skinned horned male that had made her uneasy with merely his appearance, she let her elbow sag, and her hand return to the edge of the holotable. At the small tent's entrance was Xur Eon, the man who had supposedly been a revered war hero during the Clone Wars…someone she was supposedly _supposed_ to have heard of.

All she knew was that his name was strange, also spelled unexpectedly…and that he looked like Maul. By all means, he seemed decent, but she wasn't sure why it mattered if she knew him or not.

She also didn't have a good reason to deny his entry prepared…as the secret of Alhara's presence weighed heavily upon her.

"Sure," she said, and then returned her golden eyes to the schematics she was reviewing for tomorrow's formal planning and eventual assault. "Is it important?"

"Probably not particularly," he admitted, which made her brow prickle with annoyance momentarily. He must've sensed it, judging by his sudden clasping of the holotable and forward lean. "But I just wanted to talk to you about my daughter."

Now she felt a tinge of fear but stuffed it away before it could reveal itself.

"I hope you can forgive her for the…encounter the two of you had on the Valkyrie. Once she has her mind set on something, it's hard to pull her attention away. It is my understanding you don't take kindly to distractions or people who slow you down, which…well…you and I have that in common," he continued, talking almost in a tangent by now.

She decided to ensure this conversation didn't dip into personal territory. "I hardly noticed. There's nothing to apologize for."

Xur's expression fell slightly, his eyes turning sad before snapping back into place. Somehow that was the _wrong_ thing to say.

"I've been training her since she was old enough to walk…it's always been her passion, and she's read a lot about your people…their customs and so forth. She's insisted that I train her for the _verd'goten_, even if she'll never actually run it, which was why she was excited to be here…and why she was upset we left her on the Valkyrie."

Bo blinked, and felt an immediate urge to tell him the truth. She never lied, which was why this had made her feel so uneasy, and part of her knew it would be better if she did.

Why _was_ she keeping this a secret? Surely Eon wouldn't mind as much as Alhara's mother, not when he so obviously continued to hint at his displeasure about it. Why else would he be here in the first place?

She had to tell him. It felt wrong not to…but she couldn't tell the whole truth. They couldn't know it was Nara who had done it on her own accord…

"Which is why I'm glad you let Nara carry on with her plan…" Xur broke her thought process.

_What?_

Bo must've looked much more stunned than she desired to reveal, because she could've sworn Xur was holding back his laugh.

"That was _your_ idea?" Bo asked, and he nodded. "So Nara didn't kidnap your kid…"

"No," Xur shook his head. "I already knew Trilla would never have it, but I feel I'd be a terrible father if I didn't give Alhara this chance."

"What kind of chance?" Bo narrowed her eyes. "No offense, but we're not an experience. You've put your daughter at great risk to _try being a Mandalorian for a day_."

"I never said this was a chance for my daughter to have fun," Xur kept his gaze stern. "I'd say this is more like an audition."

Bo took his meaning immediately, but she couldn't fathom how that would be the case. Frustration began to take root, and she attempted to vent it through a harsh huff. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you're getting at, that way neither of us waste anymore of each other's time?"

Luckily, he didn't take offense to that, not like she cared, but it had a measure of truth to it. She hated that he had gone behind her back and used Nara to get his six-year-old daughter to the surface, no matter how intriguing she was, as well as the fact that he'd lied to his wife who certainly had good intentions…

But of course…good intentions weren't worth anything anymore.

They never had been.

"I've been around long enough to know when something's changing," Xur began, and Bo felt his innate sincerity, as well as the seriousness of his demeanor. "This mission, whether we like it or not, will be a point of no return for my family. We've lived hidden from the galaxy for six years…but it's not in my nature to remove myself from a cause I believe in. I knew that once I accepted Ahsoka's plea for help…I'd never want to go back."

_The moment you don this helmet, you'll be leaving your old life behind._

"And the reality is, we can't keep our children safe, not the both of them. Katara is almost at an age where she can begin to defend herself, but as I'm sure you will agree, almost is not enough. Trilla will never part with her, never want to leave her anywhere that isn't either in her arms or on the Valkyrie, surrounded by echani warriors and armed guards.

"Alhara…Alhara never really fit in with us, her mother and sister anyway. Sometimes we wonder if she was swapped for another baby when we turned our heads," he smiled at that, which at least meant he knew it wasn't true. "But she's got a combative spirit I've never seen before, not at her age. She's strong, frighteningly smart and committed, and despite her differences, she would defend her family whatever the odds."

_I'll always protect my sister. You can't ask me to abandon her._

"She's got all the makings of a true Mandalorian," Xur finally reached his point, but by then Bo had been so lost in reverie that she _had_ been paying close attention.

"She might," Bo nodded, and scooped up her helmet, shutting off the holotable. "But that isn't for me to decide…and while you may think letting go of your daughter to be cared for by another may give you a sense of solace, I promise you…it _won't_."

Xur sighed, staring blankly at the unlit table. "This isn't about me. What I want for my daughters is for them to be themselves, to not have to live in a galaxy that despises them. Alhara was born for this…I can feel it."

Bo scoffed, raising one brow with a hint of mockery. "What, in the Force?"

Xur shook his head. "My gut."

She'd never admit it to him…but Eon wasn't half bad.

"I make no promises," she granted him. "Because it's all on her…but…I agree. I will take note and observe."

Xur bowed his head. "Thank you, and you needn't worry about Trilla. I'll take care of that."

"You'd damn well better. The last thing we need is another force-wielding maniac thinking we stole her child."

* * *

_Just be you._

Those words were simple, but Alhara hated words. They were slow, boring, and wasted time, especially if the enemy was on the verge of getting away…which was never an option. They were distractions, excuses, and most of all…utterly confusing.

Her mother used big words all the time, as did Katara, and she hated it. Why couldn't they just be like Dad? Why couldn't they just speak plainly and say what they were thinking? Why did everything have to be hard to understand?

She didn't hate her mother or her sister…but they annoyed her, always looking her way as if she were some creature they didn't like. Katara always called her a _weirdo_, which really made Alhara mad, just like every time she told on her. For a big sister, Katara seemed to take a lot of pleasure in selling her out and being a snitch, which made Alhara's chest broil with anger. Sometimes she just wanted to punch her or smack her, but she was too big, and better at fighting than she looked.

And she couldn't see a thing in this helmet. It was too big for her as well, wobbling around her head and smacking into the sides of her skull. How the Mandalorians her age could stand it didn't make any sense…and how they were talking to each other made even less.

So many strangers…all in one place. How could she blend in if she didn't know anyone? Dad always said that stealth was useful, but ultimately a waste of time in most cases…and that she was bad at it anyway.

But she had to try. She couldn't let her mom find her, not when this was her _chance_, and not when Bo Katan and Nara were taking a risk to give it to her. Paying it back was the only way to make it worth it, and the only way either of them would respect her, even if Nara had made it clear that the two of them were already friends.

Alhara didn't want friends. She wanted clanmates who respected her as a warrior, not friends who thought she was cute because she was a little girl, and while she liked Nara, the ladder was definitely true for her.

This was her chance to prove herself, to put all that training to use. Usually, based on what she had read, Mandalorians respected animal kills, or those who could win in hand to hand combat without weapons. Maybe if she could just…

"Recruits! Battle circle!"

That was it. A battle circle was where Mandalorians faced off against each other in combat duels, usually without weapons traditionally. If only she could—

Larger bodies smacked into her as the recruits rushed to the circle, knocking Alhara to her knees and her helmet off her head. Another kicked her in the rear until they finally got the hint that she was an obstacle.

"Move, _vaar'ika!_" one of the older recruits shouted, earning laughs from the others.

Great. It had only been a few seconds, and she'd already been embarrassed and called a runt.

Scrambling to slide her helmet back over her head, Alhara quickly realized she was the shortest one, and had to squeeze through just to see what was going on. Across a small dirt area stood an orange and white armored Mandalorian, bearing the signet of a rose on his right shoulder. His accent was harsh, even more than her mother's, but Alhara had no difficulty understanding him.

He called out two names, and two boys stepped forward, appearing to be around her sister's age. Engaging in a respective ready combat stance, they squared off, waiting for something.

"Begin!"

Alhara couldn't take her eyes off the confrontation, and the various cheers and chants from the others recruits made her heart race with excitement. She joined in quickly, even if she didn't know any of these people, clapping and cheering with each strike and block. They were _good_…no better than her of course, but very good…and it was only then that she realized she had never watched a spar before.

She had never watched a _fight_ before.

All this time, _this_ was what her mother had been hiding from her? Why? What was so bad about being with people like her?

It only made her angrier with her mother, but the conclusion of the duel distracted her again. One of the duelists yielded after surrendering to a choke hold, resulting in cries of "_Oya!_" from the others, and she could hardly contain herself as the next two began.

A knee pounded into her back just as the second fight concluded. "Quit rubbin' me _vaar'ika_!" a boy protested, almost twice her height. "Children can watch from between our legs."

That earned chuckles…_and_ sparked Alhara's ire.

"Be quiet, _di'kut_," she spat.

Others gasped somewhat as her insult carried during a quiet moment, and the overseer turned her way, just as the boy kicked her again.

"I'll smash your skull you little schutta. You'd better take that back!"

"No one is smashing _anyone's_ skull," the overseer pointed, drawing everyone's attention. "Save your animosity for the circle."

She felt it in her gut, and she reacted.

"I'll face him in the circle!" Alhara vowed. "Unless he's _scared_."

More chants of challenge emerged from the crowd, just as she turned to look directly at her quarry. He scoffed. "I'll flick you off my armor like a bug, little girl. Overseer! Let's get this over with."

In time, the overseer eventually accepted her challenge, and Alhara made her way to the middle of the circle. It was much larger than it looked from her original vantage, as did her opponent, who was a boy around the age of 12, towering above her. She could already hear others laughing at her, betting minute amounts of time she'd be able to last.

Let them doubt her. She'd been doubted her entire life.

"Begin!"

Her opponent hardly shifted or move once they were given the go ahead, almost trotting around her as they looked for respective openings. With such a height and reach disadvantage, Alhara knew she would have a better chance at reacting instead of attacking, _if_ her opponent could make mistakes. Instead, he continued to keep his distance, leaving Alhara to test her luck with an advancement.

His boot crashed into her helmet, and she fell backwards onto her rear.

Laughs ensued, but he didn't make her submit, meaning the fight was still on. Scrambling back to her feet, she dodged his first kick this time and was finally close enough to swing, but she was only kicked away again, the impact infecting her ears with an incessant ring as she hit then ground and slid away.

But this time she was _caught_.

"Catch his leg and take out his support behind his knee," a female voice coached in a whisper, until she was shoved back into the circle. Alhara had no time to decipher who that was, as her laughing opponent kicked out again.

And she _reacted_.

Dodging the kick, she caught underneath his leg and propped it atop her shoulder, before executing a roundhouse kick into the back of his standing knee. He grunted and fell atop her, and she utilized her smaller frame to hide her movements and secure her arm around his neck. She tightened as hard as she should, her teeth gritting behind her helmet as the cheers continued. Her opponent tried to pull himself free, but he seemed so stunned he had fallen into this position that he began to panic, unsure as what to do pull her arms away. She was far too secured for him to use brute strength, no matter how small she was.

He refused to yield, still trying to free himself, until the overseer finally called out, "End duel! Victor!"

Alhara released him, and she took in heavy breaths as he pounded his fist into the dirt bitterly. Turning towards the overseer, hoping to see her mysterious benefactor, she spotted the blue armor and golden eyes of Bo Katan, who gave her a confident smile and curt nod.

The nod she gave back was the proudest she'd ever given.

* * *

**Imperial Transport Ship – 4 BBY**

"Keep all squads on high alert. We will be approaching Botajef within the next five hours."

"Yes ma'am."

The stormtrooper's crisp salute was plenty for Agent Elena Markov, who had just submitted her final inspection report to command. These were rudimentary tasks, occasionally tedious but ultimately necessary for the continued efficiency of her operations. This assignment was from the very top, Colonel Yularen himself, and its success equally imperative. Transporting such raw amounts of _beskar_ alloy drew many eyes, most hostile to the Empire.

She cared little for its drawbacks, only that she continued her exemplary service of the Empire she loved so dearly.

Free of the subordinate trooper, Markov made a harsh turn down the hall and to the command quarters, stopping just before the door. With a tap of her freshly cleaned gloves, she signaled her presence and situated her hands neatly behind her back. After a few moments, there was a _ding_ of acceptance, and the durasteel door slid to the right.

Inside sat a dark-skinned human, his black hair slicked back in a wavy pattern, while his wrinkled face and fierce, brown eyes were perhaps his most striking features. Dressed in dark black ISB garments with a shined chest plate, he gave her a diplomatic smile.

"Agent Markov, please have a seat," he gestured. "We have much to discuss."

She tipped her head with respect. "Indeed.

"High Agent Gideon."

* * *

**Stay safe and stay tuned.**


End file.
